The scar over Wren's missing heart faded in and out of existence above his open collar before becoming more defined than ever, darkening as if it had been freshly carved with hot iron.
Or a silver knife filled with Disorder.
"Stop," Rowan said when it began to split into a new wound. Blood welled along the seam of skin, trickling down Wren's chest to stain his shirt, red blossoms against the snowy white. "Please, don't do this to yourself, even if it's not real."
The scar sealed and faded to a normal color, yet the bloodstains on his shirt remained.
After a moment, Wren spoke. The voice that was usually so passionate was completely devoid of emotion. "I need to tell you the rest."
Rowan nodded, more unnerved by the empty expression on Wren's face than the blood.
