Grom's eyes snapped open.
He gasped, chest rising sharply as air rushed back into his lungs.
"…Hah—!"
"You're awake."
The voice was calm. Familiar.
Grom turned his head.
Zane sat on a chair nearby, one leg crossed over the other, posture relaxed as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
In front of him—
Mira.
She lay peacefully, breathing evenly. Her face was pale but calm. And—
Grom's breath caught.
"…Her hand?"
Zane followed his gaze.
"I healed it."
Grom stared for a moment, stunned, then slowly nodded. Relief washed over him before his expression abruptly changed.
"Dren—!"
He tried to sit up, panic surging through him.
"Where is he?!"
Zane raised a hand slightly.
"Calm down."
Grom froze.
"…Calm down?" he repeated hoarsely. "What do you mean—"
"He's dealt with," Zane said.
Grom frowned.
"Dealt with…?"
Zane didn't answer immediately. He simply lifted his chin and gestured.
Grom followed his line of sight.
And his stomach twisted.
