The group was gathered in a loose circle around the unconscious man, who kept trembling and muttering gibberish.
Their surroundings were still heated, as the destruction caused by Kael's attack was still fresh outside, and even his body was heated enough to warm the air.
The assassin lay bound at the center—wrists and ankles wrapped in blackened restraints fused by heat rather than knots. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.
Evethra stood close to Kael's side.
Very close.
Her fingers were laced with his, grip firm and possessive, as if letting go might allow the world to tilt again.
Kael didn't pull away. If anything, his thumb absently brushed against her knuckles, grounding himself.
This incident wasn't just a shock for others but also for him.
Because today, he realized just how powerful he was.
No, to be precise, he noticed how powerful he could get, because even the last breath attack wasn't his strongest.
