Nevara
Thoren’s arms closed around me, steady and solid, anchoring me in a moment that felt like it had come unmoored from everything else. I let myself lean into him without resistance, pressing closer as if proximity alone could make sense of what had just happened. It didn’t. The room still felt wrong—too quiet, too still—and somewhere beyond the walls, Kael was alone with something no one should have to carry.
That was the part that wouldn’t leave me.
Not the blood. Not the blade.
Kael.
The way he had looked as he walked out of the room, like something inside him had fractured beyond repair. I had seen grief before. I had seen anger, devastation, loss—but what I had seen in him hadn’t settled into any of those things yet. It had been something rawer. Something unfinished. And that
