The rain stopped like someone had flipped a switch.
Kade blinked up at the sky — one moment gray and suffocating, the next a hollow, washed-out blue. No clouds. No sound. Not even wind.
It was like the world had paused just for them.
Asha sat up slowly, water dripping off her clothes. Her breath was shallow, her skin pale, and those eyes…
Kade couldn’t stop staring at them. They weren’t just hers anymore.
Where once there had been warmth, there was now a jagged brightness, Drag-light fracturing outward like broken glass.
> “You’re staring.”
Her voice echoed. Not in his ears, but in the back of his head, like a thought that didn’t belong to either of them.
Kade flinched. “Did you—did you hear that too?”
She nodded, hand pressing to her temple. “I… don’t know what’s mine anymore.
