The clearing was silent.
Utterly, achingly still.
Even the wind held its breath, curling around the ruins of what once stood—a place that had borne witness to betrayal, love, sacrifice... and now, the terrifying silence that followed.
Quinn stood frozen, every sense screaming for something—anything—to prove the boy lying motionless on the earth wasn’t gone.
But there was no cry.
No rise of breath.
No golden eyes peeking open with curiosity.
Just Rowan’s small, smoke-smudged form, curled where Kaelen had once stood.
Jace was the first to move.
He dropped to his knees beside Rowan, trembling fingers pressing to the pup’s throat, to his wrist, to his chest—
“Come on, baby boy. Come on—Rowan, please…”
His voice broke like glass.
No heartbeat. No warmth. Nothing.
“No,” Quinn choked
