Cairen took deep breaths, trying to sink the last echo of the vision into the same dark place it had come from, when the door to his room swung open forcefully, without ceremony.
Ling entered, her silver eyes sweeping the room quickly until they landed on him, still seated on the bed.
The thin layer of sweat on his forehead and his slightly quickened breathing did not go unnoticed.
"What happened?" she asked, straight to the point, her voice like a cutting thread of silver.
Cairen blinked, pushing away the last image of the mark darkening the back of the boy he once was.
"Nothing." He lied, shifting on the bed.
"Don't tell me it was 'nothing,'" she retorted, crossing her arms.
"The bond between us was… burning. As if you were in the middle of something extremely horrible. I felt it. So I repeat. What happened?"
He frowned. She was right. The connection made things obvious, especially something as visceral as pain and trauma. He couldn't simply hide such a large disturbance.
