A moment to breathe

Eires let out a long, measured breath and allowed a small smile to pull at the corner of her lips. Not one of triumph, but relief. Bone-deep, aching relief.

She and her teammates walked back across the open tournament field, the massive gate to the labyrinth groaning shut behind them. The scent of scorched magic, blood, and crushed stone still clung to her clothes, but her body—remarkably—was intact.

Mostly.

Her shoulder, where Celeste had shot her, throbbed faintly. But it was only a dull ache now—nothing compared to the fire it had been when the silver-laced arrow had first pierced her flesh. The wound had already closed by the time they reached the outer circle of the maze. She had felt it healing. Just like it did multiple other times in the past.

And that… she only recently found out, wasn’t normal.

Not for a wolf.

Not for most witches.

Not even for fae.