"You've been unconscious for two days," Draven said, his voice raw with tension. "Don't ever scare me like that again."
I blinked, trying to adjust to the dim light of the healer’s den. The ache in my body was persistent but tolerable. Draven sat on the edge of the cot, his usual stoic expression softened by a flicker of relief.
"I didn't mean to," I whispered, my throat dry. "What happened?"
"You collapsed after summoning that barrier. You saved us, Liana. The witches retreated, but only barely." He paused, his jaw tightening. "Your body couldn't handle the strain."
The memory hit me like a slap—the surge of raw energy, the blinding light, and then the overwhelming darkness. I shuddered at the thought.
"Where's the artifact?" I asked urgently.
Draven's eyes darkened. "It's safe, but
