Page 54 of Shadows Rising

I can’t even tell if he’s real.

But I feel him.

Something inside me snaps taut, an invisible wire pulled tight around my ribs. My breath stutters in my throat, the bonds that should be settled inside me shuddering like struck tuning forks.

The others—Finn, Malrik, Aspen, Torric, even Kieran—they all fell into place, their connections forming and locking into something solid, undeniable.

But this? This bond still bleeds.

It aches.

Like something vital is missing. Like something is trying to crawl home through broken glass.

I take another step forward, my pulse hammering against my skull, my body knowing something my mind refuses to accept.

The shadows part just enough for me to glimpse him clearly.

Dark hair thatcatches light it shouldn’t have. Sharp features carved from marble and regret. Eyes like storm clouds before lightning strikes.

A voice echoes through the space, low and rough, but the words dissolve before they reach me, slipping through my fingers like smoke.

Walter flickers beside me, his glow dimming to almost nothing. He bobs once—frantic, urgent—then vanishes entirely.

I know him.

But I don’t.

The recognition slams into me like a fist to the chest. My lungs seize, my body reacting to something my mind can’t grasp. There’s history here, written in the space between us, carved into the way he stands like he’s holding himself together by will alone.

I know that face.

I know the weight in those eyes.

But before I can reach him, before I can even whisper the name burning on my tongue, the darkness pulls.

And everything shatters.

I wake with a gasp that tears from my throat like a scream I couldn’t release. My entire body is rigid, every muscle locked like I’ve been struck by lightning. My heart pounds so violently it hurts, the incomplete bond in my chest pulling,demanding, refusing to be ignored.

The room is dark, but I can feel warmth beside me, solid and real. Finn’s arm tightens around my waist as I jolt awake, his breath warm against the back of my neck. His body anchors me, pulls me back from whatever edge I was standing on.

I press my fingers against my sternum, willing the ache to fade.

It doesn’t.

It getsworse.

Across the room, Malrik shifts restlessly, his jaw clenched even in sleep. Aspen and Torric both tense, their bodies responding to something their unconscious minds recognize. Kieran’s bond flares—just for a heartbeat, sharp and distant—before settling back into careful control.

Finn stirs, his fingers searching across my skin even before he’s fully awake.

The dream clings to me like cobwebs, thick and suffocating, refusing to fade. I should wake Finn, tell him, let him distract me with his chaos and warmth. But I can’t move.

Can’t breathe.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. My mind is racing, chasing fragments of recognition that slip away the moment I try to hold them.

I felt him.

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