I place my hands on Raith's chest, calling forth my healing power. It comes sluggishly, still depleted from my overextension during the Crucible, but I push harder, drawing on reserves I didn't know I had.

Warmth flows from my palms into his body. I focus on the worst injuries first—a punctured lung, internal bleeding, fractured ribs—letting my instincts guide me through the healing process.

Raith's breathing eases, color returning to his face.

"It's working," I murmur, watching as the smaller wounds begin to close.

But something strange happens as the healing progresses. Raith's form seems to shimmer, like heat rising from summer stone. At first, I think it's my exhaustion playing tricks on my vision, but the effect intensifies.

"What's happening?" I ask, alarm rising as Raith's features begin to blur.

Voss doesn't answer, his eyes fixed on Raith with an intensity that sends chills down my spine.

Beneath my hands, Raith's body continues to shift. His shoulders narrow, his jawline softens, his hair lengthens and darkens from black to deep auburn. The scars on his face fade completely, replaced by smooth, flawless skin.

I try to pull away, but some force holds my hands in place, drawing more and more of my essence into the transformation.

When it's complete, it's no longer Raith lying in my lap, but a woman. She's breathtakingly beautiful, with high cheekbones and full lips. Her military uniform is of an unfamiliar design, its style ancient yet somehow timeless. Silver swirls mark the uniform that look nearly identical to my mark when I’m not holding the disguise.

Her eyes flutter open—silver, eyes. Older than her face, somehow.

She looks up at me with momentary confusion, then turns her head toward Voss. Recognition dawns on her face, followed by a smile of such devotion it makes my heart ache.

"Lorkan, my love," she whispers, voice rich and melodious. "Is that really you?"

"Milena." He kneels beside her, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips with reverence. "At last. It's finally time we take back what is ours."

I scramble backward, horror and confusion warring within me. "What... who..." I stammer, unable to form coherent thoughts. "Where is Raith?"

Through the tether, I search desperately for him, for any trace of the connection we'd forged. But instead of the void I feared, I find him—distant but strong, his essence pulsing with life. Not weakened or diminished, but simply far away.

Lorkan turns to me, his expression almost kind. "Raith Hollow is perfectly safe, Nessa. He never left Confluence. My unbound power is transformation. It’s how the siphons take so many forms. It’s how I made Milena look like Raith. She was wounded and nearly killed over a thousand years ago. But now that she’s back, she can create more siphons. We can control them again. Finally.”