The mark on my chest burned like a brand, a pulsing reminder of her—of me—as we pushed toward the Rift. The mountains loomed sharper now, their peaks stabbing the bruised sky, clouds churning with a storm that hadn’t broken but felt alive, watching. My wounds screamed—leg, arm, side—but I forced each step, the bond with Lucian a lifeline, his presence a fire against the cold dread creeping through me. The dagger hung heavy at my hip, its hum a faint echo of her whisper, still clawing at the edges of my mind.
Lucian led the way, his blade drawn, his silver eyes scanning the narrowing pass. Killian flanked me, staff ready, his usual quips silenced by the weight of what we’d seen—the Keeper, the chasm, my shadow self reaching through me. Mara trailed behind, her knife glinting, her breaths s
