The c***k did not widen.
It crawled.
Darkness crept across the silver boundary in slow, deliberate lines, like veins forming beneath glass. The light fought back, pulsing brighter, but every surge only seemed to deepen the shadow’s grip.
Elara stumbled back, heart slamming violently against her ribs. “Draven,” she whispered, pressing both palms against the glowing surface. “Talk to me.”
Pain answered.
Not her own his.
The bond flared sharply, sending a wave of agony through her chest so intense she cried out, collapsing to her knees. Images slammed into her mind in fractured flashes: endless silver light, a vast internal horizon, and Draven kneeling, braced against an unseen force tearing at him from all sides.
“He’s hurting,” she gasped.
The Watchers reacted at once, spreading out
