The war was over. Velaris was safe—for now.

But peace did little to quiet the storm raging in you.

The House of Wind loomed in silence, the scent of healing salves and blood clinging to the air. You climbed the stairs two at a time, ignoring your own bruises, your cracked ribs, the way your muscles screamed with every movement.

You needed to see him.

The door to his chamber creaked as you pushed it open, your breath catching the moment you stepped inside.

Nyx sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, his head bowed as he stared at what remained of his wings.

What used to be a breathtaking expanse of violet and midnight was now torn and ragged—mangled flesh and frayed membrane. They hung limp behind him, once a symbol of pride, now a brutal reminder of vulnerability. Blood had dried along the edges, some areas already dark with the slow work of healing magic, others too damaged for even magic to fully restore.

He didn’t hear you enter.

Your heart twisted painfully. “Nyx…”

He flinched.

Slowly, he turned his head, and the shame in his eyes made your stomach drop. “You shouldn’t see me like this.”