Kaelen's POV
The pain in Kaelen's chest was finally fading to a dull ache instead of the sharp, crushing sensation that had stolen his breath. He sat on Serenya's couch, the healing mixture warming his stomach, and tried to make sense of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
His father was dead.
The words still didn't feel real. Lord Valerius, the man who had banished him, who had called him a failure, who had finally…in those last moments…tried to protect him. Gone. Burned by Lyren's fire while trying to shield Kaelen from his stepbrother's rage.
Kaelen looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. The silver light that usually danced around them when he touched Aether was gone, leaving only pale skin and the faint tremor of exhaustion. Without his magic, he felt incomplete. Vulnerable.
"How are you feeling?" Tiara asked, settling into a chair across from him.
