Craize presses his head harder into my palm, a low rumble vibrating through him.
“I don’t feel ready for it,” I admit quietly. “I don’t even know if I’m using it right.”
His ears flick forward, attentive.
‘Power is rarely used right at first. It bends… it shifts… it tests.’He studies me, golden eyes deep as old forests.‘But it listens to you. That is enough.’
I exhale shakily. “We need you,” I whisper, letting the weight of it settle between us. “All of you.” I motion to his pack, their eyes glinting with mirrored resolve. “The Siphon… It’s stronger than before. I can feel it. If we’re going to have a chance—”
‘Say no more,’Craize cuts in gently. His head rises, posture lifting with a kind of regal certainty.‘The Siphon threatens the balance. Threatens you. That alone is reason enough.’
“That’s not a small thing you’re offering,” I say. “I won’t have any of you die for me.”
A low, amused huff escapes him.
‘We do not die for you, Asha. We fight with you.’
The words lodge somewhere deep in my chest.
“I just… this time, I want to save everyone without loss.”
Craize steps closer, until his forehead presses against mine. The contact is grounding—solid, ancient, comforting.
‘Listen carefully, young one.’His voice resonates through me like a heartbeat.
‘You carry fear. That is good. It keeps you alive. But do not let fear convince you that you stand alone. You have never stood alone.’
My throat tightens. “How do you always know what to say?”
He gives a soft chuff.
‘Wisdom comes with age… and from watching you stumble into danger more often than any creature I’ve ever met.’
I huff a laugh. “That’s not comforting.”
‘It wasn’t meant to be.’A pause.‘But this is: we stand with you.’
The pack fans out behind him, forming a crescent—silent, deadly, loyal. Their combined growl hums through the ground, vibrating up my legs and into my bones. Not aggression. Promise.
Across the valley, the Siphon stirs, the air crackling with its hungry pulse. A storm waiting to devour.
Craize lowers his head, gaze fixed on the darkness ahead.
‘Give the word, Asha. And we will tear fate apart if we must.’
Chapter Thirty-Nine
From this height, the darkness crawling through the treetops is unmistakable—Nala’s plan is working. The Siphon is taking the bait.
“Go low,” I tell Versivius, and he obeys instantly, wings shifting as he drops in altitude. Ryder stands balanced on his horns, the beaker of obsidian glue clutched in his fingers, steady as stone. Skyphorah and Versivius have regained their strength since I funnelled some of my energy into them.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask, searching his face for even a flicker of fear.
There’s none.
Just pure determination.
“Yes,” he says firmly. “We need to stick to the plan. I’ll keep him away.”
