THORNE
"The man is Elias, Alpha Draven's brother. And he tells us the Alpha is dead."
Wren's head snapped toward me, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that cut through the fog of grief surrounding me.
Elias started speaking, his voice urgent. "We're not—we didn't do anything wrong. Circe tried to have us killed. She sent us to die in the mist, but the nightmares are gone and we—"
"How are we looking at you without shriveling to dust?" Wren interrupted, her voice carrying genuine wonder beneath the exhaustion. "The stories say anyone who meets your gaze dies. That you consume souls with a glance. That you leave nothing but husks behind."
I just looked at her.
The question should have meant something. It should have triggered some response, some explanation, maybe concern about what it meant that my sight no longer killed. But I couldn't bring myself to care.
