Riven’s gut turned.
“Thane—!” he shouted, too late.
Yerin’s hand darted to his coat, and before Thane could stop him, he pulled out a small glass vial. The liquid inside shimmered with a sickly opalescence, swirling like smoke in water. Soulglass.
Yerin smashed it on the floor at Thane’s feet.
The vial shattered.
A bloom of silvery vapor erupted upward, and Thane had no time to dodge. Yerin rolled away from the cloud, coughing once but untouched, while Thane staggered back, trying to wave the fumes away—but it was already too late.
Riven’s heart dropped into his stomach.
“No!”
Thane swayed, one hand to his face, breath hitching as the Soulglass took hold. His pupils dilated, his chest heaving in ragged, shuddering gasps. The veins in his neck and arms flared dark against his skin, as though his blood had turned venomous.
Yerin watched it all with calm satisfaction. “There we go,” he said. “Let’s see how much of a Virellien he really is now.”
Thane dropped to one knee, breath ragged, eyes wild with the beginning edge of something inhuman. His hair, which had come loose from its ties in the fight, fell like a curtain as he hunched over further, body spasming, arms drawing tightly about himself.
Yerin laughed, and the sound made Riven’s skin crawl, high and ragged and full of something unhinged, like a violin string pulled too tight. He crept along the edge of the room, slinking toward the exit, keeping to the shadows like he didn’t quite trust Thane not to turn on him too.
Riven barely noticed. His eyes were locked on Thane, who knelt on the ground, shaking. Every muscle in his body clenched and convulsed as the Soulglass stormed through him. His breathcame in short, jagged bursts. His nails were digging into the floor. His body fought the transformation—and lost.
“Thane,” Riven said, taking a tentative step forward. His voice was low, gentle, like speaking to a wounded animal. “It’s me.”
But Thane didn’t lift his head.
The Matriarch, still crumpled on the floor where Caerel had left her, began crawling toward the gun. Her fingers closed over the grip, trembling, her gaze shifting from Thane to Yerin, then back again. Riven caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.
Please don’t do it.
Thane screamed.
The sound tore through the chamber like it could peel stone from the walls—raw, guttural, and wrong. When he looked up, his eyes were wrong too. No clarity. No thought. Just a savage, feral gleam of something not him. His lips peeled back in a snarl, baring teeth like an animal’s, and his whole body moved with terrifying purpose.
Yerin was ecstatic. “Yes!” he shouted, voice cracking from glee. “Look at him—no chains, no code, no leash. Just the Beast. That’s who he really is!”
Thane’s wild gaze snapped to Riven, and without warning, he lunged.
Riven moved, diving sideways just in time. Thane’s body slammed into the space where he’d been a heartbeat before, nails raking the stone, teeth bared in an unrecognizable snarl. The impact cracked the floor beneath his fists.
Behind them, the Matriarch raised the gun.
“No—don’t!” Riven shouted, flinging a hand out toward her.
She hesitated. Just one breath. It was all Thane needed.
He turned on her with terrifying speed, knocking the weapon from her hands with a swipe that could’ve taken her head cleanoff. She cried out, winded, as he drove her to the floor with brutal force. Her head struck stone, and the gun skittered away into the darkness as Thane loomed over her, a monster carved from fury and magic and pain.
And Riven, heart pounding, knew he had seconds to stop what came next.
Chapter 75
Riven sprinted forward driven by instinct, fear, and something deeper—love, maybe, or something just as desperate. He caught Thane’s wrist mid-swing, stopping the crushing blow inches above the Matriarch’s unconscious body.
“Thane,” he gasped, gripping tight. “Don’t.”
