The next time my eyes open, it's because of the throb in my wrist more than anything else. When I flicker open my eyes, dawn is seeping through the tiny cabin window, casting the rough‑hewn wooden walls in a pale light. Kael sleeps beside me—for once, a sleeper free of both nightmares and pain—but the bond slips through me, tingling softly with an energy I don't yet know how to harness.
I shut my eyes and let my breath slow, concentrating on the heat of Kael's shoulder beneath my palm. There is something strange at my mark, a dull, pulsing ache, as though wings used for flying from tender skin. It's a reminder of what we share that is more than flesh, more than the promise of tomorrow. It binds our souls, and now it provides me something fresh to feel: knowledge.
