Mason’s POV
The fire hadn’t gone out. It hissed and spat, throwing light over her body. Zylia lay where the blast had dropped her. She was too still, too pale, and the dirt beneath her still scorched black.
Raven stood a few paces away, knife in hand, face carved into something unreadable.
“She’s not breathing,” she said. No fear in her voice. Just fact.
“She is.” I knelt beside Zylia, fingers finding the pulse beneath her jaw. Faint, fluttering. “Barely.”
Raven’s boots crunched the ash. “Whatever that was, it wasn’t wolf magic.”
“I noticed,” I muttered. The air still smelled wrong, metallic and burnt
Raven circled her, “You saw what she did. That light, no wolf can do that. Not even Alphas. We should leave her.”
The words hit like a slap. “You mean kill her.”
“I mean survive.” He
