AYLA'S POV
The Outlands began where civilization ended.
We stood at the border—five warriors, Kael, and me—staring into a landscape that seemed to reject reality itself. Trees grew sideways. The sky shifted between colors that had no names. And the air tasted like forgotten things.
"This is a mistake," Thorne muttered. "Luna, you shouldn't be here."
"Noted." I adjusted my pack, hiding the way my hands shook. The pregnancy made everything sharper—scents overwhelmed me, sounds cut like blades, and power surged through my veins unpredictably.
I'd nearly incinerated my breakfast when a warrior dropped a plate.
"How far do we go?" one of the warriors asked—a young woman named Sera with fierce eyes and steady hands.
"Until we find answers," Kael said. "Or until the Outlands kill us. Whichever comes first."
"Encouraging," another warrior—Dain, broad-shouldered and scarred—grumbled.
I reached for my Luna senses, extending them into the Outlands. The feedback made me gasp.
