The truth settles like lead. Heavy. Undeniable.
I’m a—
A soft sound pulls me from spiraling thoughts.
Mara.
She shifts slightly. Makes that small noise again—distressed, unconscious.
The questions can wait.
I drop to my knees beside her. Gather her carefully against my chest. Her head lolls against my shoulder.
She’s warm. Breathing. Alive.
Because I—
Because Iflewto save her.
Because I turned into something impossible and tore through trained operatives like they were nothing.
The implications are staggering. Overwhelming.
But they matter less than the weight of her in my arms.
I rise. Start back toward the village at a run.
My body moves automatically. Human legs carrying us both through forest that feels different now. Sharper. I can smell things I couldn’t before—pine resin and animal musk and the lingering scent of dragon fear.
My senses haven’t fully returned to human normal.
The village square is lit when I arrive.
Lanterns burning. Villagers emerging from dwellings with weapons drawn. Dragana standing in the center, spine straight, eyes sharp.
She sees me. Sees Mara unconscious in my arms.
Her expression doesn’t change. Not surprised. Not shocked.
Like she expected this.
“Bring her,” she says simply. Gestures toward our dwelling.
I follow. My bare feet silent on cold stone.
Inside, she points to a pallet. I lay Mara down carefully. Arrange her limbs so she’s comfortable. Brush hair from her face with fingers that shook with adrenaline moments ago.
Dragana produces a kettle. Pours something that smells of herbs and earth into a wooden cup.
“When she wakes, make her drink this. It will clear her senses.”
I take the cup. Set it beside the pallet.
Then I just… stand there.
Staring at my hands.
Human hands.
