The crash of branches gave away the others before they appeared. Tor barreled into the clearing first, his bulk shoving brush aside like brittle sticks, with Elliot, Kael, and Dren close behind. Weapons out, eyes sharp—they looked ready to carve through another monster.
"We started running as soon as we heard the racket," Tor said, scanning Jace and Zara with a quick soldier's glance before his gaze caught on the shadowy carcass dissolving into mist. "Sounded like a war was breaking loose here."
The last wisps of the corrupted panther drifted apart, leaving only clawed trunks and ripped earth to prove the fight had been real.
Kael drifted closer, hand hovering over the air where the creature's remains still shimmered faintly. "Strange… a panther that size should've taken four trained hunters, minimum. How did just the two of you manage it?"
Jace opened his mouth, fumbling for something plausible, when Dren stepped up, sun catching in his perfect hair, his usual smirk already in place.
"Well done, Zara," Dren said, voice thick with condescension. "I'm impressed you held your own with a liability at your side. Your divine blessing must be far stronger than any of us realized."
The words scraped under Jace's skin, tightening his jaw. He had a dozen retorts ready, but Zara beat him to it.
"You've got it backward, Dren." Her tone cracked through the clearing, sharp and clean. "Wart kept me alive. His planning, his timing—without him, I'd have been dead before the first minute was over."
She turned fully toward the group, her expression hard as iron. "He mapped the panther's attacks, set our defense, and landed the final strike. If anyone was dragging the fight, it wasn't him."
Her gaze lingered on Dren just long enough for the knife to twist. "Though I suppose someone who needed to be told that the villagers were the creatures he was killing might have trouble spotting competence."
The flush on Dren's perfect face said she'd struck the nerve she wanted. He clenched his jaw, but nothing came out.
Tor's booming laugh broke the silence. He clapped a hand on Jace's shoulder hard enough to rattle his teeth. "You keep catching me off guard, boy! Every time I think I've got you figured, you pull this. A shadow panther! Do you know how many veterans it would have taken to bring the beat down?" His grin was wide and genuine.
Jace's chest tightened—not with nerves this time, but something warmer. Praise from Tor wasn't handed out like scraps. You earned it, blow by blow.
"Well, that's that," Kael said briskly, brushing lingering mist from his gloves. "We return to the capital. The king will want a report on Blackmere. And we'll need to scout for any other corrupted strays in the area."
The group began reorganizing gear, the familiar rhythm of soldiers winding down after battle. Jace had just bent to gather his pack when Zara's sharp gasp cut through the air.
Her hand clutched her left arm, and the color drained from her face.
"What is it?" Elliot was already at her side, moving with that clean, practiced efficiency.
"It's… broken again." Her voice wavered as she pressed her fingers to the spot where the panther's strike had landed earlier. "The arm that was healed… it's broken again."
Jace's stomach dropped. Of course. The Carnal Surge hadn't fixed it—it had only borrowed time. He slipped to her side, shouldering her weight without thinking.
"Let me take the pressure."
Dren frowned, suspicion narrowing his eyes. "You were fine seconds ago. What's this about?"
"Battle shock," Zara snapped, jaw tight against the pain. "Adrenaline covers more than most people realize."
The group shifted back into a steady march, Jace keeping close, careful not to jolt her. When the others moved ahead, Zara angled toward him, her voice low, her breath brushing his shoulder.
"What's happening, Jace? I felt it heal. The bones set. The pain was gone. Now it's the same break again." Her eyes searched his, demanding truth.
How could he explain a system that existed only in his perception? How could he tell her that whatever power had flowed between them was subject to time limits and cooldowns like some kind of magical game mechanic?
"I don't know," he said quietly. It wasn't a complete lie. "Maybe it's unstable. Maybe it's not something I can control yet. I'm sorry."
Her lips pressed together, pale from pain but steady. "It's not your fault. Whatever you did, it gave us the chance to win. That's enough."
The words should have comforted him, but guilt dragged at his chest. The surge that had carried them through the fight was nothing more than a lease on strength—and like all leases, it had an end date.
They moved along the forest road in silence, Zara leaning into him with measured stubbornness, her arm cradled close. The others fanned out in their usual patrol spread, boots crunching over damp leaves, weapons at the ready.
She still trusted him. Enough to let him carry some of her weight. Enough to take his word, even when the magic had failed her. And that, Jace realized, might be the only thing he couldn't afford to lose.