Quinn’s POV
The heat seared his skin. The world around him trembled, the ash plains breaking apart under fissures of molten fire. The sound of crying echoes filled the air, each one displaying the distorted, accusing, and desperate faces of individuals Quinn loved.
But Rowan's hand held him steady in the midst of that horror.
His boy had little, steady, trembling fingers. Despite the oppressive weight of the shade, his golden eyes gleamed brightly in the darkness.
"Papa," Rowan muttered once more, his voice more forceful. “You don’t have to choose between me and him. That’s the lie it wants you to believe.”
Quinn’s chest cracked open, torn between relief and terror. “Rowan, you—how are you here? I thought I’d lost you—”
Rowan shook his head, clutching his father’s wrist tighter. “Yo
