Her knees gave out beneath her, but Fenn moved fast, his arm cinching around her waist, before she dropped. As her vision swam, her gaze dropped to where Kaelith still sat, unmoving. He watched her closely, eyes narrowed, the faintest crease between his brows.
“I think I know this threat…from before,” she whispered, her hand pressing flat to her belly as if that could banish the phantom pain. “Felt it…in my dreams.”
Fenn’s grip tightened. “The nightmare that sometimes comes?”
“Yes. Maybe.” She shook her head and gripped his forearm, fingers digging in. “I don’t know. The nightmare, but… also like… after you nearly died.” Her throat closed as she croaked.
The ache had been so raw, so total, it hadn’t felt like grief—it had felt like being pulled under by it. Like dying herself.
A laugh clawed its way up from her belly. “You’ve got to stop dying on me, Fenn.” Her hand slipped up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. “I don’t think I can handle that again.”
He didn’t say anything. Just kissed the top of her head and held her there.
“So what do we do?” Elara’s voice broke through the stillness. She stood inside the ring of fire, eyes scanning the undead ranks on the other side. “We can’t wait here while they swarm the Reaches, waiting for whatever’s inside to get stronger.” Her gaze shifted to Fenn. “Did you learn anything, Commander? I assume Skarn’s dead or fled?”
Rynna inhaled, her thoughts flashing back to the fight, trying to pin down anything useful.
“Dead. Yes,” Fenn said.
At the same time, Kaelith barked out a short, hacking laugh. “The wolf ripped his head off.”
“What?” Elara’s face snapped toward the voice, her expression only now registering the battered man lying to Rynna’s side. Her eyes tracked down the length of his ruined leg. “Great Elements, your leg!”
She dropped to her knees beside him, the click of her boots lost beneath the roar of flame. With swift hands, she pulled aside more of the shredded fabric, revealing the remnants of the previously gaping wound beneath.
“How are you still conscious?” Her mouth fell open.
Rynna watched as Elara bent over, fingers hesitating over Kaelith’s injured leg.
The skin was still shifting—knitting itself back together as sinew crawled over bone. As she watched, the final layer of dark, snake-like scales sloughed away, curling at the ends as they fell to the ground and revealed smooth, pale skin underneath.
“Not bad,” Kaelith muttered, flexing his knee with deliberate care. The joint bent beneath his hand, but a wince broke through his carefully neutral expression. “The bones will probably take another day or so to finish knitting, but faster than normal.” He paused, fingers pinching lightly, testing the skin. “I’d been wondering how I’d hold up without the enhancements Skarn absorbed.”
His eyes slid to Rynna, one brow lifting in dry amusement. “But it seems our little blood exchange unlocked more than enough to compensate.”
Elara crouched beside him, reaching to prod at the skin near the worst of it. “But your leg was barely there.”
Kaelith snorted. “Please.” He tucked his good leg beneath him and pushed upright with a grunt, wobbling as he reached out, catching Rynna’s shoulder for balance. “Rynna’s done worse during any number of…vigorous evenings…before she met you children.”
Elara’s mouth dropped open. She mouthed the wordvigorous, eyes slowly rising to Rynna, then darting to Kaelith and back again. “It seems there’s more to the story than you ever said,” the girl mumbled as crimson flushed up her neck and she scrambled to her feet.
“Training!” Rynna choked, swatting at Kaelith’s shoulder with the back of her hand. “Vigoroustrainingsessions.”
Kaelith shifted back with a laugh as Taren raised a fist to his mouth, shoulders hunched like he was swallowing something bitter.
“Please.” The young man’s eyes darted to Fenn, forcing the words around his knuckles. “Please tell me I can kill him again when this is all over.”
Fenn’s only reply was a low, warning growl, rumbling through his frame.
“Enough.” Rynna shoved gently away from both men, ignoring the heat of Fenn’s hand and Kaelith’s smirk as she crossed to Bran.
“As much fun as this is,” she said, sweeping a hand toward the swirling chaos of firelight, rot, and unspoken tension around them, “we still need a plan. The barrier’s still up. The dead are still moving. And clearly, killing Skarn wasn’t the win condition we hoped for.” She gave Bran a light punch to the shoulder. “Right?”
“Uhh...yeah.” He was still glancing between her and Kaelith, clearly trying to piece together whatever the hellthatwas. His fingers rose to scratch at the side of his head, his brows knitting. “We still need a plan.”
She arched a brow. “What does Hika think?”
“Hika?” He scratched harder. “Why’s everyone looking so weird?”
