KAIA
I gasp, my eyes flying open.
Stone floor. Cold. Real.
My hands are still glowing—faint residual light pulsing under my skin like dying embers. My whole body shakes, but not from fear. From the sheer force of what just moved through me. Like I channeled lightning and barely survived.
Talia lies beside me, broken and dying.
But my hands are already moving. Pressing against the worst wound—the gash across her ribs that won't stop bleeding.
This time, when I reach for my magic, it comes.
No hesitation. No wall. No fear blocking the way.
Warmth floods from my palms into her torn flesh, and I watch—actually watch—as the edges of the wound begin to pull together. Slowly at first, then faster. Skin knitting over muscle, blood flow slowing, stopping.
I move to the next wound. The swel
