The forest had gone silent.
The kind of silence that comes before an earthquake—or after a scream. The air felt thick, heavy with the scent of scorched magic and raw grief. Quinn couldn’t breathe. Jace couldn’t move. Kaelen didn’t blink.
And Rowan…
Rowan stood at the edge of the Veil, his eyes silver like twin moons in eclipse.
He looked… older.
His face still held the softness of youth, but his expression didn’t. His jaw was sharper, shoulders broader. His aura had shifted entirely. No longer just wolf. Not just Echo. Not even something halfway between.
He was something else now.
“Rowan,” Quinn whispered, taking a trembling step forward.
The boy—no, the being in front of them—tilted his head. “That name…” His voice was deeper. Distant. “It echoes, but it does not anchor me.”
Jace
