Thorne
I could hear the tension before I stepped into the room. Not just hear it—feel it. It pulsed through the walls like a second heartbeat, thick and charged and stifling. The sharp clang of voices collided in the air, Varen's tone high and laced with desperation, Kiel's voice low and edged in fury, every syllable a blade drawn tight against restraint.
And at the center of it all… Josie.
The moment I stepped in, my gaze found her. She lay crumpled on the floor like a porcelain doll knocked from its shelf. Her skin was pale—unnaturally so—sweat glistening across her brow like dew on morning glass. Her chest rose and fell in uneven, shallow bursts. Each breath sounded like it might be her last.
"The medicine helped her," I said tightly, stepping forward, trying to assert control over the chaos I'd just walked into. "She's not hallucinating anymore. She's calmer—"
