Her palms pressed flat to my chest. Through the layers of armor, I could feel the echo of her pulse against mine, impossibly fast, impossibly alive.
I breathed her in. The air smelled of snow and storm and the faintest trace of warmth that didn’t belong to Winter at all.
“I told you to stay away from me,” I said, too low.
“I stopped listening,” she answered.
The Sea of Glass roared beneath us, a sheet of light breaking open, the aurora spilling red and white fire across the horizon. The sky cracked wider—no sound, only brilliance.
And I … held her tighter.
The tower didn’t stop moving. It swayed, a heartbeat behind the Sea of Glass below. Every pulse of light from the sky struck through stone and bone alike. My armor thrummed; the runes along my wrists burned cold.
Katria stood in the middle of it, steady as the pillar behind her, hair torn loose, eyes full of that impossible defiance. I should have sent her inside—should have frozen the doorway shut and left her safe behind it.But I couldn’t.
“Kaelith,” she said over the roar, “what’s happening?”
“The Veil’s collapsing.” I could barely hear my own voice. “The Dreamstone woke too soon, and it’s using you as a conduit.”
She shook her head. “I didn’twantthis!”
“I know.” The admission came out raw. “But wanting stopped mattering the moment you touched it.”
A fissure of light raced up the tower wall, spilling red down the stones. It stopped a hand’s breadth from her shoulder. I moved before thinking, catching her arm and pulling her close.
“Don’t move,” I said. “It tracks motion.”
She froze, breathing fast. My fingers tightened around her sleeve. I could feel her pulse—rapid, terrified—and mine answering it like an echo. The tower shook again.
Her gaze found mine, searching. “You said I was a sacrifice.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
“Then what am I?”
The question hollowed me out. “A choice I can’t unmake.”
She blinked, confusion flickering into something gentler. “Is that what this is? Regret?”
“No.” I tried to release her, failed. “Regret would be easier.”
Another tremor rolled through the ground. The frost underfoot split, revealing light like molten glass. She staggered; I steadied her. Her palms pressed against my chest again, right over my heart, and everything inside me faltered.
“I’m supposed to be the cold one,” I said. “But every time you look at me, the world gets warmer.”
Her breath hitched. “Then stop looking.”
“I can’t.”
It wasn’t a declaration. It was surrender.
The wind tore through the tower mouth, scattering shards of ice. They hissed past us, slicing thin lines into my cloak. She didn’t flinch.
I caught one shard mid-air and crushed it in my fist. It melted instantly, water running down the leather and dripping from my fingertips.
Her eyes followed the motion. “You’re shaking again.”
“I told you—it’s the cold.”
