The Rejection Sickness
My knees hit the ground as the bond's backlash tore through me like a serrated blade. The poison in my veins, once a twisted comfort, now burned like acid. Black tendrils of magic crawled up my arms, spreading like cracks in glass—the physical manifestation of a bond violently severed.
I gasped, clawing at my chest, my vision swimming. It felt like dying. Like my soul was being ripped in four different directions.
Mira grabbed my arm, hauling me up. "Elara, we have to go"
But I couldn't move.
Because he was there.
Riven moved like a ghost through the chaos, his pale eyes glowing like moonlight on ice. The others raged, but he was quiet, his lethality all the more terrifying for its stillness.
"You think you can run from this?" His voice was soft, deadly. "From us?"
My breath hitched as the bond between us twisted, the rejection sickness making my stomach heave. The vial he had given me—the cure—glinted in his hand, taunting me.
