Betrayed

**Kelly Thompson's POV**

The venom isn’t poison—it’s a *conduit*. It slithers through my veins like liquid static, stitching itself to the storm’s ghost still buried in my bones. Every heartbeat fractures the world: frozen forest, gold-tinged battlefield, derelict chapel where the Weaver stitches stars into a child’s skin. Eden’s voice wavers in and out, human and raw, his hands gripping my shoulders as he shouts words drowned by the snow’s howl. The ground melts and refreezes in jagged spirals, obeying the fevered rhythm of my pulse.

“—*listen* to me!” Eden’s nails dig into my arms, grounding me. His eyes—brown now, ordinary and terrified—reflect a face I barely recognize. My skin glimmers, translucent as moth wings, veins alight with the storm’s afterglow. “The venom… it’s changing you. We need to move.”