The return to Blackridge did not feel like the end of a war.
It felt like the first hour after a fever breaks—shaking, drained, and not yet certain the body remembered how to be well.
Kael Veyr traveled in the center vehicle under enough sedation and silver constraint to keep his ability locked down to residual noise. Even so, the monitors maintained continuous watch on the bond channel the entire road south. Twice during the journey a thin, involuntary pulse of foreign static licked the outer gates and died against them. Each time Tristan’s hand tightened around mine. Each time the unit’s collective attention sharpened until the pulse was confirmed as dying nerve rather than active will. By the time the convoy crossed into formal territory, even those last reflexes had gone quiet.
The
