LUCY
It takes a long, agonizing minute for my senses to return. I start to focus on his mouth, watching the way his lips move, slowly processing the words.
"We are at the outskirts of Virelan," he says, his voice dropping to a calmer, steadier tone once he sees the recognition in my eyes. "Amara did it. We are in the Great Weald. This forest binds Virelan and Ashkara. We are safe. You're home."
I inhale deeply, following his lead. I take in a lungful of air, and for the first time, I actually smell it. It isn't the copper-scent of the haunted forest. It's pine. It's the crisp, sharp scent of the Lykara mountains.
I sink into Tavric's chest, the relief so absolute it makes me weak. I breathe him in—and the scent that always seems to follow him—and let out a jagged sigh. But then, the silence of the glade hits me, and I remember my friend.
"Amara," I whisper.
