Jarek snorts. “Still an ass.”
I give him a lazy shrug, resetting my stance. “Another round?”
Jarek sighs, picking up his sword. “Why do I let you talk me into this?”
“Because you can’t resist a challenge.”
“No, because he’s a smug bastard and we both keep thinking we can wipe that look off his face,” Rian mutters, rolling his shoulders.
Jarek shifts his grip. “Again, then.” He jerks his chin towards Rian, eyes narrowed. “And this time, try not to fall on your ass.”
I huff a laugh. “We’ll see.”
They attack at the same time and I meet them head-on. Jarek lunges—I block his blade mid-swing with mine, bracing againstthe impact.
And then it hits me.
Like fire igniting through my veins. I feel like I’m being ripped open from the inside.
Pain. Searing. Deep.
Wrong.
But Jarek and Rian’s blades haven’t touched me.
My vision fractures and the sparring ring tilts. A sharp, foreign, breathless agony burns through my side—deep, wet, raw.
Not mine.
Wait—
Hers.
I barely register the sound of Rian shouting before my knees buckle. The world lurches, spinning violently, and I hit the dirt, my sword slipping from my grasp.
“THANE!”
Someone grabs my arm, shaking me, their voice distant, like it’s coming through water.
My vision blurs, darkens, then snaps into something else entirely—a sky full of shadows, a battle raging midair. And blood.
Her blood. Her pain.
Amara.
My breath vanishes as my chest seizes.
I don’t just see it. I feel it.
Feel the fire in her veins, the pain tearing through her body, the raw, sharp edge of exhaustion pressing in. Feel the moment she realizes she’s losing too much blood; the fury in her gut—the refusal to go down like this.
It’s not just a vision. It’sreal.
I can feel her.
“No. No, no, no—”
A deep, primal terror slams into me. I try to move. Try to push up. Stand. Run.
