The silence after the storm was worse than the storm itself.
The wolves that had survived stood in crooked circles, watching me as if they were unsure whether to run or bow, and the air still smelled of iron and ash. Faint veins of silver continued to pulse beneath the stone, like a heartbeat that would not die, even though the ground where the fissure had opened was now sealed shut.
Opposite me, Thorn stood with his flames dim but alive, his face streaked with soot. With her eyes wide and unsure, Mira hovered behind him, her arm wrapped in torn fabric. And Kalen was kneeling and gazing at his hands as if they weren't his. Beneath his skin, silver continued to glow dimly.
No one spoke.
Every whisper of wind felt like accusation.
When I tried to speak, my voice came out rough. “It’s ov
