(Vladford POV)
Pain woke me.
Not the sharp kind that tears you out of sleep like a blade—
but the deep, suffocating burn that seeps into bone and refuses to let go.
My eyes opened slowly, the world swimming as though I had surfaced from deep water too fast. Canvas ceiling. Wooden beams. The low murmur of voices beyond the tent walls.
The infirmary.
I tried to move.
The moment I shifted my neck, fire exploded down my spine.
I gasped, fingers clawing at the bedding as my vision went white.
"Don't," someone said sharply.
Hands pressed me back down. Firm. Experienced.
"Lie still."
I swallowed, throat dry, sweat already slicking my skin despite the cold morning air.
"What—" My voice cracked. "What happened?"
"You collapsed," one of the healers said. "After the ravine."
Fragments returned in pieces.
The goblins.
The blight-veined ground.
Fire tearing free despite the mark's resistance.
And then—
Nothing.
I became aware of the heat at my neck.
Not warmth.
Burning.
