CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The heat comes first, thick and crushing, pressing against my chest until the air curdles in my lungs. Each drag of my lungs scorches deeper. Smoke slithers in next, thick and suffocating, snaking up my throat.
I cough once, twice, violent, but it’s useless, everything inside me seizing as I fight for air that won’t come.
Then—movement.
The dark shifts.
Hard jagged shards layered so tight there’s no gap between. Each plate gleams dark green, but at the sides they burn metallic, violet fire lacing through like molten glass.
They flex, ripple, not separate but one. Rising. Breathing.
The shadow around me swells, swallowing the light. My body braces for the void, for the black hollowness I’ve seen before, those eyes from the square.
But what finds me isn’t empty.
They glow. Violet-rimmed, bright and alive, pinning me in place, pulling me open, like they’ve always known me—like they’ve been waiting.
Then shift in close and something inside me cracks.
I lurch awake.
Breath sawing, sheets damp against my back.
The room is dark, cold and silent. Moonlight leaks thin through the window, spilling pale streaks across stone walls. Opposite me, Ezzy’s bed is untouched, blankets still smooth, pillow uncreased.
The emptiness digs sharper than the dream.
I drag in a shaky breath, squeeze my eyes shut, and force myself to lie back down. Just sleep. Just forget. But the glow of those eyes linger, burning against the inside of my skull.
“Hey, is that my training blade?”Rowan calls from the foot of Ezzy’s bed, jaw tight, book in hand. “It is, Finn, I told you to stop taking my stuff.”
The Healers’ Wing reeks of boiled linen and herbs, the kind of smell that sinks into your skin, but Finn doesn’t seem to care. He’s stretched out next to me at Ezzy’s bedside like the room belongs to him, not her.
“It chose me,” Finn grins, twirling Rowans blade between his fingers.
“It’s not sentient.” Rowan snaps back.
“That’s exactly what it wants you to think.” Finn replies, hugging the blade to his chest like a long-lost lover.
Ezzy groans, dragging a hand over her face. “Enough already. I’m going to get dressed. Meet me in the courtyard for the Sermon at eleven?”
“You sure you’re feeling up for it?” Rowan asks carefully, testing the edge of her mood.
Ezzy cuts him a look. “They said I’m fine. Better than new. So yes, Rowan, I don’t want to spend another minute in here. It’s been, what, six days? At this point, even Serrane’s monthlySermon sounds better than the stench of herbs and your constant bickering.”
Six days. The number lands heavy.
Six days and she doesn’t look better than new, nowhere close, but the healers keep saying it like words can stitch over what happened. And every time I see her lying here, the guilt claws fresh.
Ezzy turns to me, “Plus, I need to catch up with this one; we have so much to talk about.”
Shit. My throat goes dry. I can’t deal with her asking about Talen right now, not with her soft, sparkly eyes cutting right through me; I’ll crumble. I’m not ready for it, and I can’t tell her the truth—not till I have more answers myself and I know what I'm dealing with.
Still, I force a smile. “Yeah... we’ll talk later.”
She beams as Finn bumps me with his shoulder. “She’s missed you, you know.”
