Nova's POV
They say when your world shifts, it doesn't do so gently.
It crashes.
It shatters.
And you're left kneeling in the middle of it, surrounded by jagged pieces of what used to be your sense of normal, bleeding from truths too sharp to hold.
That was me—fourteen days ago.
And all because of one silver-eyed boy with a sharp tongue, a colder stare, and hands that could summon darkness like it was his birthright.
Eldur.
He wasn't human.
Not even close.
I kept replaying the scene over and over, the night at the supermarket like a curse carved into the inside of my skull. The way those guys cornered me, how their laughter echoed around me like a death sentence. I remembered their hands. Their intentions.
And then—Eldur.
