I feel it—something shifts in my chest.
A pull. A drag. Like a cord twisting tighter, like some infernalthing lodged beneath my ribs starts thrumming.
What the fuck is that? Why does it feel like—
It’s not pain, not exactly. But it’swrong.Foreign. Strange.
And then—her arms go slack around my neck.
I look down.
Amara. Unconscious.
Shit.
My grip tightens, and I tear through the halls like a storm.
Thatthrummingthing beneath my ribs won’t stop. Won’t let me forget she went still in my arms. Whatever the fuck it is, itknew—before I did.
Soldiers and staff step back just in time, faces blurring as I pass, their expressions twisting into alarm the moment they see her.
Blood. Pale skin. Her head slumped against me like she’s already half gone.
No. No, she’s not. She’s still breathing. Still warm.
And I’m not letting her go.
A lieutenant stumbles back against the wall as I barrel past. Someone yells. I don’t stop.
I slam through the infirmary doors, nearly tearing one off its hinges.
“Healers!”
My voice cracks. Breaks.
“Now!”
Heads snap up. Robes shift. A metal tray crashes to the floor as an apprentice stumbles back, eyes wide with panic.
“I need a bed—now!”
Two healers rush forward, dragging a cot into place. I lower her down—my arms refusing to let go. Even now. Even as her blood smears the front of my training leathers—dark, sticky.Hers.It clings to my fingers. Still warm.
“She’s losing too much,” I choke out. “She’s—” I can’t finish.
They’re already moving—pressing cloth to her side, speaking low spells, magics humming to life at their fingertips. Light spills across her skin, but it’s not enough.
But I can stillfeelit.
That thing in my chest. That fucking pull, clawing and burning like it doesn’t care if I understand it—it justis.
What the hell is happening to me?
What is happening toher?
My fists clench. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything. I’ve fought wars. Held the line against things that should not exist. But this? Watching her go still, watching blood pool beneath her?
I amuseless.
