The Trial did not release her when it ended.
It followed Aria like a second shadow.
She felt it in the silence after the Conclave dispersed, in the way the wind hesitated before touching her skin, in how the ground beneath her boots seemed to listen too closely. Power still hummed through her veins, no longer roaring, but pulsing with a slow, deliberate rhythm that refused to fade.
Recognition lingered.
The valley watched her leave.
As Aria crossed the final boundary stones, her breath caught, not from exertion, but from pressure. Something unseen pressed inward now, coiling around her ribs, tugging at the place where her wolf and magic met.
Damien noticed instantly.
His stride shortened, falling half a step behind her, a subtle shift that placed his body between hers and the watching Alphas. His hand brushed her elbow, steadying, possessive without being overt.
"You're leaking power," he said quietly, voice pitched low so only she could hear. "Not outward. Inward."
