Elara’s POV
The Hollow's howl echoed through the forest, long and low.
I clung to Dorian, my heart pounding, the pendant burning against my chest. His arms were tight around me, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
"He's not here," Dorian said. "He can't be. The border patrol would have raised the alarm."
"I heard him."
"Dreams aren't real."
"That one felt real."
Dorian pulled back and looked at my face. His eyes were hard, but his voice was gentle. "Then we'll double the patrols. Triple them. He won't get near you."
"You can't promise that."
"I can promise I'll die trying."
I stared at him. The words hung in the air, heavier than anything he had said before.
"Don't say that," I whispered.
"It's the truth."
"I don't want your death on my conscience."
"Then don't let me die."
