RILEY'S POV
The vial was heavier than it looked.
Black glass. Cool against my palm. The silver threads inside swirled lazily, like smoke trapped in ink. I stared at it for a long second, long enough for my mother to stop breathing, long enough for Kain to tilt his head just slightly, waiting.
I uncorked it.
The smell hit first — sharp, metallic, like blood mixed with winter air. I tipped it to my lips.
One swallow.
The liquid burned going down something colder, cleaner, like swallowing liquid moonlight. It spread fast. Too fast. I felt it race through my throat, into my chest, down my arms, pooling right at the scar like it knew exactly where to go.
Then ....
The healing.
It wasn't gradual nor Gentle.
It was Violent.
