Moonlight fractured through towering trees, silver beams slicing the darkness as Lucien ran without slowing, Aurelia clutched tight against his side. The scent of blood, pine, and scorched magic clung to the night. Only when they crossed an ancient boundary stone—etched with sigils older than the packs—did Lucien finally stop. He staggered. Just once. But Aurelia felt it. “Lucien,” she breathed, panic clawing up her throat. He braced a hand against a tree, shoulders heaving, shadows flickering violently around him as if struggling to stay contained. “We’re safe,” he said roughly. “For now.” Then he collapsed to one knee. Aurelia dropped beside him instantly. Moonlight revealed what she hadn’t seen while running. Blood soaked his side—black-red and thick, seeping through torn fabric where shadow magic had burned straight through flesh. The wound pulsed unnaturally, edges darkened with residual void energy. Her chest tightened painfully. “You’re hurt,” she whispered, fing
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