The words hung in the air of the holding room like a physical blow. For a long, agonizing second, Gaelan stood frozen. The breath caught in his throat, and the world around him seemed to lose its sound, shrinking down to the manic, wide-eyed stare of the ragged man standing inches away from him. The blood rushed to his ears, a deafening roar that drowned out the sound of his own heart.
Tahla lives.
The name, spoken aloud by a stranger, shattered the fragile armor Gaelan had spent years building around his grief. It ripped open a wound he had forced himself to cauterize, exposing raw, agonizing tissue to the cold winter air. For a fleeting heartbeat, a terrifying spark of hope flared in his chest, but just as quickly, his hardened instincts slammed down upon it. Hope was a luxury that kil
