POV: ELARA
The journey back felt endless.
Five days of hard travel through mountain passes and lowland roads, our forces exhausted, our wounded carried on makeshift stretchers, our dead left in cairns we promised to return for.
I rode beside Kael, unable to shift to dragon form anymore. The tunnel had taken that from me—or perhaps the merge with Morgana had altered me in ways I didn't yet understand. My body felt foreign, ancient, like wearing someone else's skin.
It's still our skin, Morgana's voice said in my mind. Not separate, not intrusive, but mine. A thought that came from memories I'd never lived but now possessed completely.
I startled at the clarity of it.
"Are you alright?" Kael asked immediately, his hand finding mine.
"I'm... adjusting," I said, looking down at our joined hands. His was strong, scarred from centuries of battle. Mine was withered, white-haired, the hand of someone who should be near death despite being only twenty-three years old.
