**Nymera’s POV**
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Kaelith didn’t wake for two days.
He was alive, barely. His skin blistered, throat scorched, hands bandaged so tightly the fingers were swollen and stiff. The healers didn’t say much, but their silence screamed louder than words.
He’d been caught in my fire.
Because of me.
Dain hadn’t spoken since we returned to Hollowfang.
Not to me.
Not to anyone.
***
On the third morning, I found Dain alone in the war tent, standing over the map of the Wastes with his arms crossed, eyes distant.
He didn’t look up when I entered.
“He’s stable,” I said softly. “But they don’t know when—or if—he’ll fully recover.”
Silence.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” I added. “You know that.”
Still nothing.
The anger swelled in my chest.
“So this is it?” I snapped. “You’re just going
