Sarafina POV
The Arcanum did not look sacred anymore.
It looked wounded.
Stone pillars were cracked clean through, runes along the floor fractured and dim, silver ash scattered across ancient carvings like desecration. The air still shimmered faintly with residual starlight, flickering in uneven pulses that made my skin prickle.
Wolves stood among witches.
No one spoke.
They were bleeding.
So was the Arcanum.
I pushed myself upright.
Alistair's arm was still around me.
Solid.
Warm.
Unyielding.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then reality returned in fragments.
Hunters.
The surge.
The two skies.
Ash falling.
My stomach twisted.
"I'm fine," I muttered.
"You were convulsing," Cassian snapped from somewhere to my left.
I turned slightly. He looked pale. Controlled, but very pale.
"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" I said trying to lighten the mood.
It wasn't well received though.
Alistair's jaw tightened.
"You stopped breathing."
I paused.
"Oh."
