Elora's fingers were still curled weakly against Larsen’s chest when the world began to tilt. Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just… wrong.

A slow, sinking pull beneath her ribs, like something inside her was loosening, slipping, like her body was no longer entirely hers to hold.

Her breath hitched.

“Larsen…” His name came out softer than she intended, barely more than air.

He stilled immediately.

There was a lingering satisfaction in his expression, a rare softness that hadn’t quite faded yet, but it sharpened the moment he felt the change in her.

Her body wasn’t melting into him anymore.

It was going limp.

“Elora?” His hand came up to...