Their footfalls echoed in the desolate ruin of the Sanctum.
Smoke clung, swirling in ghostly tendrils around shattered pillars and shattered rocks. Light was subdued, filtered through shattered colored glass, and thrown shattered shadows across the floor. Elira made her way over a fallen beam, her fingers still clasped in Kael's, not willing to let go even now.
They'd done it. They'd challenged the Watcher, disobeyed it, and weathered the storm. But there was something in the air that cautioned her survival had come at a price, and yet not disclosed.
Kael was silent beside her, his face unreadable. But the bond pulsing between them was louder than words—strained and sparking with unease. Not just from the battle, but from the aftermath. From the change. Something inside them both had shifted.
"Kael," Elira said softly, her voice echoing strangely in the hollowed chamber. "Are you—"
"I'm fine." His voice was tight, clipped. A lie. He was anything but fine.
