Third Person POV

“Mom... please.”

Kane’s voice cracked against the silence that stretched around them like ice. His knees were scraped, hands trembling, his fingers clutching the blood-crusted shoulder of his mother’s limp body.

Caitlyn wasn’t moving.

The silver glow around her had faded, and her face—usually flushed with life and heat and fight—looked gray now. Gray and soft, like stone kissed by frost.

“Come on,” Kane whispered. “You’re not done. You said we were going to finish this together. You can’t stop now.”

The ritual circle still glowed faintly beneath them, the runes flickering like candle flames in a windstorm. But it was fading. Fading too fast. And Kane...