The forest was unnervingly quiet.
Only the wind moved, rustling through the trees like a hush over the world—as if even the woods held their breath in reverence for what had just transpired.
Quinn sat in the circle of Jace’s arms, Rowan nestled against his chest. The boy’s heartbeat was faint but steady, like a drum that had nearly stopped and was now remembering its rhythm.
Jace hadn’t let go of either of them.
Not once.
And Quinn hadn’t asked him to.
The others stood back—pack wolves and rogues alike forming a perimeter, unsure whether to approach, to cheer, or to simply kneel. Milo had tears streaked down his cheeks, his knife still clutched tight in one hand. Kairis stood unmoving, her staff trembling beneath her weight.
It was Kaelen’s mark that silenced them.
A glowing sigil,
