(Dion's POV)
Winter was gone.
The realization hadn’t struck all at once. It had built slowly, piece by piece, until it was impossible to ignore. At first it had been a delay—she hadn’t come down, hadn’t responded when called. Then it turned into absence. Her room empty. No sign of her in the halls. No one recalling the moment she left.
And now—nothing.
Dion stood in his room, one hand braced against the dresser as his grip tightened unconsciously. The wood creaked faintly beneath his fingers, the surface beginning to give where his claws pressed into it. He didn’t notice at first, his attention too focused on the silence stretching between him and the bond that should have been clear.
He could feel her, that was the problem. She wasn’t gone—not completely. The bond hadn’t snapped. The
