The chamber was quiet but warm, the scent of herbs lingering in the air. Faint candlelight flickered against stone walls as Draka blinked his eyes open.
He felt… better.
Not whole. Not himself. But alive.
His throat still burned when he spoke. His muscles ached from even the smallest movement. Yet he could move. He could speak. He could breathe again.
That was a victory.
Apollo had done everything in her power, mixing ancient remedies, whispering prayers in the old tongue, staying awake for nights on end. She had dragged him back from death’s edge.
And Aria…
His mate.
She had not left his side.
Her presence had grounded him, even when his mind was lost in fever. Her soft voice, her touch, her prayers, those were the things that held his soul in place.
Now, as the full moon neared
