The cavern breathed with magic.
Lines of glowing runes etched into the icy stone pulsed faintly under Farin's careful hand. Each symbol bled golden light, anchoring ancient spells into the earth itself. The air shimmered with the visible weight of it, old magic, deep and demanding. It crawled over Val's skin like static, humming beneath his bones, curling in his lungs.
He stood in the circle's heart, bare-chested, eyes shut, every sense drawn taut. He could feel Yara's presence just beyond the circle—warm, steady. Her fingers brushed his cheek once. A press of lips to his brow, trembling and firm all at once.
"I'll be right here," she whispered.
He wanted to say something—thank you, I love you, please don't be afraid—but the words clung to his throat. Instead, he nodded, once, sharp.
She backed away, step by step, her fingers trailing the air where his jaw had been. The hatchlings toddled toward Sky,