Victor did not leave her side.
He sat, back to broken concrete, Felicity cradled against his chest as if holding her alone kept disaster at bay. Damien stayed at her side, fingers lightly on her pulse. Ahead, Voss stood with shield raised, steady and unasked.
The rest of the team moved quietly, reinforcing perimeter lines and clearing rooftops without the sharpness they had grown used to. Every movement felt heavier without her unconscious reinforcement; they noticed in their timing, in the strain of spells that had once felt effortless, in the slight hesitation before impact.
She had not only strengthened them.
She had aligned them.
Now that alignment was gone.
On the second night, as exhaustion frayed tempers and silence grew oppressive, Felicity drifted into uneasy sleep—and began to dream.
