Wren hauled Rowan against his chest, wrapping an arm around him as if to physically fend off the intangible cries for help that rung like dissonant bells in Rowan's head. The sound of screaming floated at the periphery of his hearing, almost indistinguishable from the prayers.
As soon as their bodies connected, a warm rush of Wren's energy flooded Rowan's senses, stabilizing him so that he no longer felt like he was being crushed and ripped to shreds at the same time.
"I have to help them," Rowan mumbled against Wren's chest as his awareness drifted in a space shaped by the abilities he had yet to learn how to control.
The spicy scent of Wren's skin briefly overpowered the screams of the crowd. Rowan's fingers tightened on the fabric of Wren's shirt, and he pressed his face into the crook of Wren's neck so he could remember what was real.
Rowan's throat clenched. "But I want to help you. Why can't I ever just help you…"
