The world reassembled itself around her in fragments—sound, color, pain. Lyria woke to the smell of iron and damp earth, her body trembling as though lightning had been poured through her veins. The forest was unrecognizable now. Shadows pulsed between the trees, breathing like a living thing.
Her fingers dug into the dirt as the mark on her collarbone seared. The black veins that had spidered from it now glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat—no, not hers. The rhythm was slower, deeper, primal. His.
"Kael…" she breathed, voice raw. "Where are you?"
The wind didn't answer. It moved like whispers—low and mocking. Leaves shivered, and for a heartbeat, she thought she saw his silhouette at the edge of the clearing. But when she blinked, only darkness remained.
Something in the air shifted. The bond between them wasn't gone—it was wrong. Distorted. When she reached for it, she didn't find Kael's warmth, but a void that clawed back.
