Theron POV
I was dying.
I knew I was dying because everything had gone cold—not just my body, but my thoughts, my memories, even my sense of time. It was like sinking into deep water, watching the surface light grow dimmer and dimmer above me.
But I wasn't gone yet.
Not completely.
My consciousness drifted, untethered from my poisoned body. I could hear Elara sobbing somewhere far away, feel the dragon's wingbeats as we flew, sense the urgency in Shadowfang's movements.
But it all felt distant. Muffled. Like I was experiencing it through thick glass.
The pain helped keep me anchored. The poison burning through my veins, turning my fae blood black and toxic. Every heartbeat spread it further, and every heartbeat brought me closer to the edge.
But fae don't die easy.
We're hard to kill—it's why Kael wanted me as his second. We heal fast, live long, survive things that would drop a human in seconds.
This poison, though. It was designed for something else. Something specific.
