Seraphine looked up. “You’re sure?”
“I’m Sighted, remember?” Evryn said with a crooked smile. “He’s breathing. And he’s not alone.”
Seraphine clutched the message Cassian had sent.
“Safe. For now. Hold your location. I’ll find you.”
Seven words. But her heart had latched onto every one.
“Do you think he knows?” she asked.
Evryn didn’t need to ask what.
“Yes,” she said. “He just doesn’t know how to tell you.”
Seraphine closed her eyes.
The Hollow’s origin was a Drakar sin. Cassian might be its only salvation. And her father would burn them both if he knew.
So now she had a choice.
Follow him.
Or run from what they were becoming.
EIGHTEEN
CASSIAN
The campfire was nearly dead by the time Cassian returned.
The wind had shifted since he'd left—colder, carrying the scent of damp moss and old ash. The kind of scent that clung to your bones and made you think of graves that never got filled.
He stood at the treeline for a full minute, watching them. Seraphine sat with her back to him, speaking low with Lira, her voice tight but steady. Brann was snoring in a pile of furs. Alek watched the woods like he always did—like he knew damn well monsters came dressed as men.
Cassian stepped forward.
The moment his boot hit the circle of firelight, every head turned.
Seraphine stood.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Her voice was sharp, but her eyes—her eyes held too much. Worry. Fury. Relief she’d kill him before admitting.
Cassian dragged in a breath. He hadn’t slept. Hadn’t eaten. The shadows he walked through had followed him back, curling at his heels like memories.
“I found something,” he said quietly. “Something about me. About why I burn the way I do.”
Alek straightened. Lira muttered a curse. Brann just blinked blearily.
Seraphine folded her arms. “You vanished for days without a word. You better have more than cryptic riddles.”
He met her gaze. Held it.
“My bloodline... it’s not what I thought.”
Silence. Even the fire popped like it wanted to listen.
