NYX
The Council chamberdoors felt heavier than usual. I pushed through anyway, my wings folded tight against my back, every muscle screaming exhaustion. We’d spent three weeks in Ignarath territory. Three weeks of sleeping in caves and eating dried meat and tracking ghosts through a city that wanted us dead.
Three weeks of failure.
The chamber opened before me, all carved stone and flickering heat crystals. The Blade Council sat in their tiered seats, arranged in a half-circle that faced the central floor. Darrokar occupied the highest seat, his obsidian scales catching the light. The others flanked him: Rath's crimson bulk, Khorlar's granite stillness, Zarvash's bronze intensity. Mektar and Veyrak had entered before me, taking their positions.
I kept my gaze forward, locked on Darrokar. My Warrior Lord deserved a full report, and I would give him one, even if the words tasted like ash.
Halfway across the chamber, her scent hit me.
Sweet and sharp, steel wrapped in smoke with something underneath that bypassed thought and went straight to the base of my skull. My fangs began to ache. The familiar tingle spreadacross my tongue, that maddening sensation I'd been trying to forget for three weeks.
Mine.
The thought detonated in my chest, spread through my blood, made my vision sharpen and my pulse hammer against my ribs. I knew that scent. Had been tormented for months, and it had only gotten worse since the Skalanth. I had volunteered for this mission partly to escape it, to put distance between myself and the human woman who'd invaded my thoughts.
It hadn't worked.
My peripheral vision caught movement near the back of the chamber. Two figures standing in the shadows where observers sometimes watched Council proceedings. Terra, unmistakable with her red hair. And beside her, smaller, blonde hair cropped close to her skull.
Lexa.
Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to turn, to go to her, to cross the space between us and claim what was mine. My tail coiled without permission. My claws flexed.
No.
I had a duty. A report to deliver. Lives depending on the information I carried. I couldn't let thiswantdistract me, couldn't let my personal desires compromise my responsibility to Scalvaris.
I forced my gaze back to Darrokar. Forced my feet to keep moving forward. Forced air into my lungs that wanted to do nothing but draw in more of her scent.
She was here. Watching. I could feel her eyes on me like a touch.
I had to ignore it.
I reached the center of the floor and dropped to one knee, pressing my fist to the stone in a formal salute. "Warrior Lord."
"Rise, Nyx." Darrokar's voice carried the weight of command and something else. Concern, maybe. He knew this mission had been dangerous. "Report."
I stood, squaring my shoulders despite the exhaustion dragging at my bones. The Council waited. Silent. Expectant.
Behind me, I heard soft footsteps. Lexa moving, adjusting her stance. The sound was barely audible, but my ears tracked it anyway, cataloging her position, her proximity, the fact that she was close enough I could reach her in five strides if I turned and ran.
Stop it.
"We reached the suspected location in Ignarath," I began, keeping my voice level. Professional. "The building matched the description provided by Vega and Zarvash during their debriefing. Evidence confirmed a human presence within the last month."
"What evidence?" Pyroth leaned forward.
"Scent markers. Human waste. Fabric scraps that are similar to what our own humans arrived in." I paused, choosing my next words carefully. "We estimate at least seven individuals, possibly more."
Rath growled low in his throat. "Estimate? You didn't find them?"
"No." The admission burned. "They were gone."
The chamber went still. Even the heat crystals seemed to dim, their pulsing glow fading to a sullen red.
"Gone where?" Darrokar's tone remained neutral, but I knew him well enough to hear the edge beneath.
