And the ache he leaves behind doesn’t settle in my chest.
It spreads.
Fuck.
UNBALANCED
TWENTY-THREE
“The bond has definitely surprised me. My research and intuition keep pointing me back to something created for when the Spiritborn awoke. But what is it and its purpose? And how many more surprises will arise?”
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
Thane has only been gone for a day. A single, stupid day. And yet—something feels off. Not like the creeping dread I felt before the attack on my village. Not the way my skin prickled right before the Kethraki struck.
Just . . . empty.
It annoys the hell out of me. Because he’s left before. He’sgone on missions, traveled to the capital, disappeared into strategy meetings. And every other time, I was fine.
So why does his absence feel like a missing limb now?
I train. I fight. I burn through magics until my hands shake—anything to distract myself.
In the morning, Valen works me through elemental control, making me push harder, hold longer.
By midday, I’m sparring against Jarek, his relentless strikes keeping me moving.
In the evening, Lyra drags me to a training circle with the soldiers, making me fight as part of a team. Later, we drink ale together—Lyra, the squad, and the rest of our friends.
I should be focused. I should be improving. Instead—I’m distracted.
My blades are a second too slow. My fire flickers instead of igniting cleanly. My stance is off, my balance slipping.
The moment I hesitate in combat training, the moment Jarek nearly knocks me off my feet, Valen’s voice cuts clean—naming what I already know.
“Your mind is elsewhere,” he says.
Obviously.
I wipe sweat from my brow, shaking my head. “I’m fine,” I lie.
Valen inclines his head. “Then why are you training like a distracted child?”
Jarek grins beside me, stretching his arms. “I don’t know, Valen. Maybe she’s just lost her edge.”
I scowl. “I haven’t lost anything.”
But I have.
Focus. Control. The ability to keep my mind from straying somewhere it doesn’t belong. Somewhere—to someone.
After training, I sit on the barracks steps, trying to ignore the ache settling into my muscles. Lyra drops down beside me, offering me a canteen of water.
“Rough day?” she asks, too casual.
I grunt, taking a long drink. “It was fine.”
