Zane gasped.
The sound shattered the stillness like thunder, wrenching Selina’s soul from the edge of the abyss.
She stumbled forward, landing hard on her knees as his chest rose—shallow, ragged, but unmistakably alive.
Victor dropped beside him with a strangled cry, hands shaking as he pressed two fingers to Zane’s throat.
“Pulse,” he breathed. “It’s faint, but it’s there.”
Elira sobbed in relief, her magic fluttering instinctively, already moving to stabilize him now that the curse had been broken. The runes carved into the altar still glowed faintly, echoing with the cost that had just been paid.
Selina pressed a hand to her chest, wincing.
It burned.
Like something had been branded deep inside her—her soul still tethered, still raw.
Roman stood a few feet away, swaying. Blood
