Darius's POV
Dawn filtered through the canvas, thin and pale, but the weight of the night still lingered heavy in the air. The camp had quieted to a low hum—crackling embers, muffled footfalls, distant murmurs. The fight was over, the stragglers scattered, yet tension still clung like smoke.
I hadn’t moved from Sera’s side. The healer checked her repeatedly—pulse, breathing, shoulder bandage—then stepped back without a word. They worked. I watched. My arm remained around her as she lay against me, her chest rising in slow, shallow breaths. The shoulder dressing had soaked through, but the stitch held. She was warm. Alive. That was all that mattered.
Cassian slipped into the tent, dust coating his shoulders, scratches lining his arms. His eyes, sharp even through exhaustion, found me ins
