The storm breaks at dawn.
Rain fell all night over Blood Moon territory, hissing against scorched stone and soaking the ash that still clings to the ruined infirmary. By morning, the sky is pale and trembling, as if the world itself is unsure whether it survived what happened beneath it.
I wake in Zane’s arms.
Not in a bed.
Not in safety.
On the cold stone floor beneath broken timbers and open sky.
For a moment, panic grips me—but then I feel it.
The flame inside me is quiet.
Contained.
Balanced.
I lift my head slowly.
Zane lies beside me, one arm wrapped around my waist as if even unconscious he refuses to let go. His chest rises and falls steadily. The faint crimson veins beneath his skin pulse in time with my heartbeat.
He’s alive.
Relief crashes through me so violently my
