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Fighting
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2025-02-17 21:38:58Jonathan POV
I wake with the taste of blood in my mouth.
The air is thick, humid, pressing down on my skin like a weight I can’t shake off. My body aches, my limbs sluggish as I push myself up from the damp, uneven ground beneath me. My head throbs, and for a moment, I can’t focus, my vision swims as I try to make sense of where I am.
Something is wrong.
I inhale deeply, expecting the rush of awareness, the sharpness of my fae senses snapping into place, but instead—nothing. No magic. No connection to the energy that has always been a part of me. The absence of it is suffocating, a hollow space where power should be. My fingers dig into the wet soil, frustration curling in my chest. No. This isn’t right.
The last thing I remember is the trial. The elders. Being separated from Celine.
Celine. The thought slams into me like a blade. I reach for the bond—expecting to feel even the faintest trace of
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