He wasn't dead. His heart was hammering loud-too loud. The pain in his body was real. He had been poisoned. He knew it was still burning through his system. And how could that be if he'd been healed properly? Where was the greatest healer his people had ever known? Surely, the latter would not have allowed poison to remain in his body, no matter what the risk to himself.

Kane pulled his shirt from his body and stared down at the scars on his chest. His kind is rarely scarred. The wound was over his heart, a jagged, ugly scar that spoke volumes. A killing blow. Could it be true?...