Voices drift around me in a blur of sound that barely touches the edges of my consciousness. Shapes move like shadows behind my eyelids. The ground is cold beneath me. My body feels too heavy, too hollow, as if the light that had burst through my chest left nothing but a trembling shell behind.
Rogues crowd close. I feel them more than I see them. Warm bodies pressing in protectively, shaking, confused, terrified. Some are infected, barely standing. Others hover anxiously, claws scraping the dirt as they form a ragged circle around me.
Someone touches my arm. Someone else whimpers. Rowan’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and desperate.
“Give her space. Let me see her.”
The rogues shift back slightly but refuse to move far. Panic rolls off them in waves. My presence stabilises their
