FAELAN'S POV
I could still see the faint tremor in Aviona’s hands, the uneven rise of her breath even as she tried to compose herself. The Drift may have released her, but it hadn’t let her go gently.
So I offered her my hand.
She took it—her fingers slipping into mine. Small. Cold. Still trembling. I drew her upright, steadying her, fully expecting her to let go the moment she found her balance.
She didn’t. If anything, her grip remained tight—almost desperate—and though I told myself it was only fear… my hold tightened in response.
We moved forward together—slow, careful—our eyes tracking every shifting shadow. The forest creaked and groaned as the trees rearranged themselves. Aviona stayed close at my side, her hand still in mine, her breaths uneven from whatever nightmare The Drif
