The air was still humming from the blood moon ritual—thick and heavy, like it had weight. Every breath scraped down my throat, saturated with magic that hadn’t yet chosen whether it wanted to be salvation or damnation. My skin prickled as if I’d stood too close to lightning, and the place in my chest where my bond with Hardin had been… burned. Not on the surface—deeper. Phantom-deep.

It was freedom, but the kind that comes after ripping a blade out of your own body—relief cut through with fresh bleeding.

Xavier’s hand tightened around mine as we walked toward the healer’s den. His stride was steady, but the heat in his...