Ronan collapsed an hour after Darian vanished.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
He made it as far as the treeline before his knees buckled and he hit the ground hard, breath tearing from his chest in a sound that froze my blood.
“Ronan!”
I was beside him instantly, hands shaking as I pressed them against his shoulder. The wound Darian’s wolf had torn into him was no longer bleeding freely.
That scared me more than blood ever could.
His skin was hot—too hot.
“The shard,” the seer said urgently, kneeling. “It didn’t just wound him. It imprinted.”
Ashael’s expression darkened. “Authority-mark.”
Kaelith swore under her breath. “That bastard.”
Ronan tried to push himself up and failed. His jaw clenched in frustration.
“I’m fine,” he growled.
“You’re lying,” I snapped, fear cracki
