The summons came not through official channels or encrypted communications, but through dreams that felt more real than waking life.
Seraphina found herself standing in the same Highland meadow where she'd first encountered Morag MacLeod, but the landscape had changed. Where before there had been rolling hills under summer sunlight, now ancient stone circles rose from mist-covered ground under a moon that seemed too large for the sky.
"You've done well, child." Morag's voice came from everywhere and nowhere, carrying the weight of centuries. "The Brussels Accords, the diplomatic victories, the alliance building—all of it shows wisdom beyond your years."
"But?" Seraphina could hear the inevitable qualification in the old woman's tone.
