Amelia P.O.V
Waking the second time felt different.
Not like falling. Not like being dragged through two realities.
More like surfacing.
I heard things first—soft voices, the rustle of parchment, the faint scrape of a chair. Then warmth filtered in from my left, steady and familiar in a way that made my chest ache.
The bond hummed before my eyes even opened.
Kieran.
I pulled a slow breath in, surprised when it didn’t catch on invisible hooks. My limbs were heavy but not numb. My head ached but didn’t ring. My magic felt… tired. But not shredded.
Alive.
Anchored.
I cracked my eyes open.
The world didn’t tilt sideways. Didn’t split. Didn’t flicker between realms.
Just the healer’s wing.
Rayven’s herbs are burning softly in the bowl.
And Kieran is asleep in the chair beside me.
