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His breath stops. So does hers.

Nothing. Eddy waits. Maybe we all do.

One second.

Two.

Three.

"Theryn?" No. "Theryn." No.

Then the sound that comes out of him—

I've heard people scream tonight.

I've heard people die.

I've heard dragons fall.

Nothing sounds like that. I turn away. Not because I don't care. Because I can't witness it and remain standing. Maybe that's cowardly. Fine.

My vision blurs. Smoke. Only smoke.

"Eirea."

Everything inside me stops.

No.

I know that voice.

Even like this.

Rough.

Exhausted.

Almost gone.

I turn.

Rhyven stands thirty feet away. For one second, I don't recognize him. Not properly.

Blood covers one side of his face. Some dried.

Some not. His lower lip is split. His deployment coat is burned through at the shoulder. Mud covers both knees. Soot streaks his skin. His hair is wet with sweat and stuck to his forehead. One arm hangs wrong. Not broken maybe. Injured.

His chest rises too fast.

He looks— destroyed.

Alive.

My dagger falls. I don't decide to drop it. My hand just opens.

Rhyven looks at me. No expression. Too much expression. Everything.

Neither of us walks.