The water vanished. The warmth that had once wrapped around Nerine like a cocoon fell away in an instant, leaving her gasping into the air as if surfacing from the depths of a dream.
Her lashes fluttered against the light, the shimmering glow of the lake fading into cold stone and shadows. The scent of burning herbs stung her nostrils. She coughed, chest heaving, and the sound echoed like thunder in the chamber.
Her blurred vision sharpened slowly. Two figures stood above her, hands raised, threads of power fading from their palms like smoke. The Witch Queen's eyes glowed faintly, cold yet curious. Beside her was Kael, his dark figure bent close, shadows clinging to his shoulders as though reluctant to let go. Their joined magic had held her—pulled her from drowning—woven reality back around her.
Nerine's lips parted, but no words came. Her voice was still trapped beneath the weight of what she had just endured.
