Aria
The prison dies slowly around us.
Stone groans beneath our feet while silver magic flickers violently through the walls like veins losing blood. Dust drifts through the air thick enough to choke on, turning the collapsing chamber hazy beneath the dim glow of dragonfire and fractured enchantments.
And somehow—despite the mountain actively trying to kill us—the strongest thing I can feel is the bond.
Alive.
Whole.
Watching.
Kaelith still hasn’t let go of me.
One arm remains locked around my waist while fire burns faintly beneath his skin, unstable enough that heat rolls off him in dangerous waves.
Cassian notices immediately. Of course he does.
“You can put her down now,” he says.
Kaelith’s grip tightens instinctively.
“She almost died.”
“We all almost died,” Eryndor mutter
