The spring was now full liquid gold.
Light swirled beneath the water, casting halos on stone. Nova lay limp in Jax's arms, her face pressed weakly against the crook of his neck, skin pale, lashes wet with melted frost.
Finric stood waist-deep in the spring, watching. Waiting.
He was about to speak when Nova stirred.
Her lips parted, dry and trembling.
"…Jax…" she whispered. Barely audible.
Her eyes fluttered open.
Clouded green. Glazed with pain. Beautiful. Still full of fire.
She flinched, and her whole body tensed.
She breathed, trying to keep her voice steady, "Riven…. stabbed."
Finric's eyes snapped to her abdomen where her hand was. The blood coming out was red… not silver.
Jax looked down.
His expression went slack.
"Shit."
In a matter of seconds, the red blood had turned black like ink.
The light from the spring recoiled from it, twisting away like it knew the wound wasn't right.
Finric was already moving through the water.
A slow tension building under his skin.
He didn't like the way she'd whispered Jax's name. Didn't like the way Jax was holding her like she belonged there. How natural it looked. Like he'd done it countless times before.
When did that happen? How much time had they spent together?
"Lay her out," Finric said roughly, his tone sharper than he meant. "On the ground. Flat."
Jax didn't move at first. Eyes locked on the wound. Mind racing. His wolf howling with panic beneath his skin.
Finric's voice cut again, tighter. "Jax."
That snapped him out of it.
Jax rose, cradled her carefully, and carried her to the snowy bank, laying her down as gently as he could. Her knees and feet were still in the water. Her hair spread out around her like starlight, still half-frozen but beginning to shimmer.
Not just silver.
Gold.
Her lips were still blue. Her breathing shallow.
Finric stepped beside her. Looked down. And there — just beneath her ribs — was the blade's hilt. Black metal.
He knelt. Reached for it.
The moment his fingers touched the hilt— Agony.
A sizzle of fire shot through his palm. He yanked back, teeth bared in a growl. Smoke curled from his fingertips.
"What the hell is on this blade?" he hissed.
Poison?
Dark magic?
Both?
He didn't wait.
His mindlink flared hot, coming out as a roar.
Fin: Aeron. I need you. Now. Nova was stabbed. She's bleeding black. Something's wrong with the blade. It burns me.
No reply.
He tried again, angrier.
Fin: Aeron—do you copy?
Fin: Does anyone copy?