By morning, Jace was sitting up.
By midday, he was walking.
By sunset, there wasn’t a single mark left on his skin.
It shouldn’t have been possible.
I’d watched the life drain from his body less than a day ago. I’d felt his pulse fade through the bond. I’d seen his blood on my hands.
Now he stood near the healer’s table, stretching his arm like he’d only slept off a bad fight.
The healer kept pacing in small, tight circles, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “This makes no sense.” She muttered. “Wounds that deep…he should’ve been down for a week, minimum.”
Her hands hovered over Jace’s chest, the faint green shimmer of her craft flickering. “No infection, no scarring. It’s like his body rebuilt itself.”
I stood near the doorway, arms crossed, half-hoping no one would look at me. B
