Author's POV
Valerie's wound was infected.
Three days after the ambush, she woke with a fever that burned through her like wildfire. Her skin was flushed, her breathing ragged, and the wound on her shoulder had turned black—not with poison, but with something worse.
Corrupted magic.
Gretha examined her in the dim light of the tent, her ancient hands glowing with silver light. The glow flickered, sputtered, and died.
"The corruption is spreading," the healer said, her voice grim. "It's moving toward her heart. If it reaches her core..." She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to.
Knox stood in the corner, his hand pressed against his chest where the shard pulsed. His face was pale, his eyes hollow. "Can you stop it?"
Gretha hesitated. "I don't have the power to stop it. Not w
