Chapter 20
MORGAN
When I surfaced next, panic edged closer to breakdown, breaths coming fast, chest constricting as I stared at the hand, the blade, the blood trail.
"I can't... it's gone," I gasped, tears streaming, body trembling despite the weakness.
Xavian's hand hovered, ready to clamp down, but he didn't, just pressed on my shoulder, holding me still with tense urgency.
"Breathe," he said, voice rough, focused, glimpses of his own strain showing in the tightness around his eyes. "Panic will kill you faster than the wound. It's sealed. You're not bleeding out."
But the horror didn't listen, looping endlessly: betrayal in his act, disbelief in the loss, the impossible detachment.
I tried to fight it, flashes of control where I slowed my breaths, glared at him, but they shattered under the weight, pulling me back into drifts.
Alive, yes, but bound deeper to the nightmare, weakness leaving me adrift in pain and confusion, not okay, not whole, just surviving in fragments.
The cycle dragged on, each fade and return layering the terror, the room a prison of blood and runes, Xavian the reluctant keeper holding the pieces. As darkness tugged again, I felt the bind tighten, alive but forever marked by this horror, drifting in the aftermath with no escape.