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"Give him space." A fourth-year kneels. "Where's a healer?"

"Coming!" someone answers farther up the trail. Without thinking, I kneel beside him. "Don't move your arm." He nods. Still trying to smile.

"Guess..." He exhales sharply. "Guess Ash Wing isn't the only dangerous thing around here."

A few nearby students chuckle. Shock more than humor. I reach for his wrist to steady it while another student tears fabric for a temporary bandage. My fingers brush warm blood. For the smallest fraction of a second I prepare myself. Fear. Pain. Embarrassment. A flash of childhood. Anything. Blood always remembers. It always tells me something. Always...Nothing. Not silence. Not darkness. Nothing. The world disappears. Not visually. Emotionally. As though someone has reached inside reality itself and removed every trace of feeling. No history. No heartbeat. No echo. No life. Only absence. Cold. Endless. Empty.

My breath catches violently. I let go so abruptly that the injured student looks at me in confusion.

"Eirea?" Cassian's voice sounds distant. "You okay?"

I stare at my own hand. The blood still stains my fingertips. It should be screaming with memory. Instead...It feels like touching water that has never known warmth. Like holding the shadow of a person instead of the person themselves.

A healer arrives at a run. "Move."

We immediately step back. Golden healing magic seals the torn flesh with practiced efficiency. The student groans. Then laughs weakly.

"I knew I shouldn't have worn these boots." He says.

"They're older than you." The healer mutters. Laughter returns. Uneasy. But genuine. Within minutes, the wound is wrapped. The bleeding stops. Students begin walking again. The accident already becoming another story to exaggerate next Friday. Normal. Everything is normal. Except it isn't. I can't move.

"Eirea." Cassian touches my elbow lightly. "Hey."

I blink. Force myself to look at him. "You went pale." "I'm..." The word sticks. "Fine." A lie. An obvious one. He studies me for another second. Then nods. "We'll catch up." I add. He and Nyra continue after the others, giving me space without asking questions. I'm grateful.

"Vaelith." The voice comes quietly from behind me. I don't turn immediately. I already know who it is. Rhyven stops beside me. For the first time since I've known him he doesn't look irritated. He looks focused. "What happened?"

I keep staring at my hand. "I touched his blood." I answer.

"I saw."

"There was nothing." He says nothing. I finally look at him. "You understand what I'm saying?" I ask.

"Yes."

"No." My voice lowers. "I don't mean nothing important. I mean..." I struggle to find words big enough. "There was nothing. No memory. No emotion. No echo." The words sound ridiculous spoken aloud.

Rhyven's expression doesn't change. Instead, he asks quietly, "Same as the Trial?"

I shake my head once. "Worse."

A long silence stretches between us. "So did I."

I frown. "What?"

"For a second." He looks toward the injured student now laughing with his friends farther up the path. "Vyrael." My stomach tightens. "The bond?"

He nods once. "Gone."

"Again?"

"Again."

Not weakened. Not distant. Gone. Just for a heartbeat. Exactly like the ward. Exactly like before. Neither of us says the word. We don't need to. The possibility hangs between us anyway. Heavy. Unwelcome. It terrifies me. Because if we're getting closer to the truth then whatever we've been noticing may also be getting closer to us.

The wind rises gently through the pines. Students disappear farther up the mountain toward the glowing lights of Varethia. Rhyven waits until I begin walking before falling into step beside me. Not ahead. Not behind. Just beside me. For the rest of the climb, neither of us says another word. Neither of us needs to.

Chapter Fifteen