The forest had not yet recovered from the surge. The air still trembled, the trees whispered in confusion. Every leaf seemed to hum with what had passed between the sisters—what still pulsed between them even now.
McKenna sat with her back against a fallen trunk, her hands trembling. Her clothes were torn, her knuckles bloodied, her pulse an unsteady rhythm beneath the dirt. She could still feel her sister inside her, like a second heartbeat—distant, aching, but alive.
The sound of boots on damp earth broke through the ringing in her ears. She didn’t look up at first; she didn’t have to. That pull in her chest—the bond that had burned itself into her veins—tightened.
“Azeo,” she breathed.
He was beside her before she could blink. His hands, rough with calluses and battle scars, cupped
