Quinn didn’t sleep.
Not even after Rowan settled back into unconsciousness, his heartbeat slow but steady. Not even after Elder Kairis sealed the room with a triple-layered ward and whispered blessings in a language older than the Echo itself. Not even after Jace wrapped his arms around him in their shared silence and whispered, "He’s still ours. He’s still here."
Because Quinn could still feel it.
The weight of that second mark pulsing just beneath his son's skin.
Not Kaelen.
Something older.
Something waiting.
He sat beside Rowan’s cot, fingers lightly brushing his son’s curls, counting each breath. Jace paced behind him like a caged wolf, glancing at the door every time the wind shifted.
“We should leave,” Jace said quietly. “Go deeper into the forest. Past the old wards.”
Quin
