The world stood still.
For a long, breathless moment, all Quinn could hear was the rush of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, drowning out the wind, the trees, even the fading echoes of the Sovereign’s retreat. He was kneeling in the dirt, arms trembling, eyes locked on the boy—his son—who now lay motionless before them.
“Rowan,” Quinn whispered, crawling to his side. “Rowan, baby, please…”
Jace dropped beside them a second later, cradling Rowan’s upper body with trembling arms. The glow in Rowan’s eyes had dimmed, the golden flare fading into dull silver. His skin was slick with sweat, his breathing shallow but steady.
“He’s alive,” Jace murmured, but the uncertainty in his voice made Quinn’s chest seize.
Kaelen stood a few feet away, unmoving, eyes locked on Rowan’s unconscious
