"Stop."
Rian's head snapped up. Yara was awake!
"Damien didn't hurt me," she rasped, voice rough as gravel. "He… saved me."
Rian's sword dropped into the snow. He stared like he was seeing a ghost. "Yara?"
She tried to smile, lips trembling. "Took you long enough."
Rian fell to his knees beside her, hands hovering helplessly, afraid to touch. Syl's breath hitched, his face pale with guilt.
"We thought—"
"I know," Yara rasped. "It's over. He's gone."
Rian helped Damien lower her to the ground. Her eyes fluttered, exhaustion tugging her under again.
That was when Imar burst through the trees, wild-eyed and breathless. His cloak was half-torn, boots slick with mud and blood.
"Yara?!"
The sight of Yara stopped him mid-step—just for a second—before his gaze snapped to Damien.
"What the hell happened to her?" he barked, storming forward. He seized Damien by the collar, dragging him half a step closer. "How did you let this happen?"
