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Shadow still clings to my hand, thin threads twisting faintly before the rain peels them away. My ribs ache where the spell anchored. My breath is shorter than it should be. The cost of what I’ve just done is beginning to settle. But I stand here, in the wind and rain, and let a woman from another world regain her balance by holding onto me.

Then lightning splits the sky.

The flash reaches us before the thunder does. In that single strike of light, something moves beneath the surface of my skin. A thread of silver pulses through the shadows still winding over my fingers.

I frown and lift my hand to see more clearly.

“How?” Ellie’s question draws my attention back to her for a single second.

When I look again, the silver is gone.

“No time. The storm comes.” Tisera’s voice cuts through thewind. She gestures sharply at the darkening sky. “We need to reach shelter before it arrives.”

She hurries us through the remainder of the pass. The path grows slicker with each passing minute. Wind howls through the narrow corridor, gusting hard enough that we brace against the walls when it surges.

The collapse behind us has cut off any path of return. There is no going back.

Only forward. Toward Stonehaven.

Chapter Twenty-One

ELLIE

“It is not the magic that burns us, but the meaning behind it.”

Writings of the Flamevein Oracles

I didn’t meanto throw myself at him. Not really. It just …happened.

One second, the path was gone. The next, I was moving. Rain in my eyes. Wind in my ears. And him … still standing there like the only solid thing left in the world. So I ran. I didn’t think. I didn’t care what it meant.

And when I reached him, I didn’t let go.

He didn’t either.

Not at first.

His body was solid and cold, but his arm stayed around me. Just for a second. Long enough for my fingers to knot in his tunic. Long enough to feel the warmth of his breath. Then lightning split the sky, and he pulled away like the moment had never happened.

Now the space between us is filled with tension and rain.

It lashes at my face as we emerge from the northern pass, each droplet a freezing needle against my skin. The icy water driveshorizontal, a wall of wet fury determined to push us back the way we came.

Not that returning is an option. The rockslide, the impossible wall of stone Sacha somehow held back with magic, made sure of that.

The memory makes my stomach churn. The crack of stone, the roar as it collapsed, the heat of his body against mine. The way the mountain gave up the moment he let go.

How long could he have held it, really? Another minute? Ten seconds? Was it power that kept the rocks at bay, or something closer to desperation? And if he can hold back a mountain, what else can he do?

That question should terrify me. It shouldn’t fascinate me. But it does.

The wind grabs at my cloak as we follow Tisera down a narrow switchback trail, the forest rising to meet us on the other side. Pine needles slick with rain crunch beneath my boots. The scent of wet stone and crushed greenery clings to the air. Somewhere ahead, water runs down rock faces, the sound muffled by the storm but still audible.

Sacha doesn’t speak. He hasn’t looked at me since the pass’s collapse.

But I can still feel the imprint of that moment. His arm around my waist. The steadiness of his voice even as the mountain strained beneath us. The way I pressed against him like he was the only thing keeping me alive.

I should let it go. File it away as adrenaline and survival.