3
MIHALIS
The divine magic pressing against my will feels like chains forged from starlight—beautiful, unbreakable, and absolutely infuriating. I've spent years mastering my own power, building an empire from shadow and flame, and now some cosmic force thinks it can dictate my choices?
Fuck that.
If I can't kill her, and letting her walk away would make me look weak in front of my entire establishment, then there's only one option left. The realization crystallizes with the kind of clarity that comes from desperation and rage.
I need to find out what the fuck is going on.
I move before she can react, one arm sweeping behind her knees while the other circles her waist. She's lighter than expected, her lean frame folding against my shoulder as I lift her from the ground in one fluid motion.
"What the—put me down!" Her fists pound against my back, but the blows barely register through the fury burning beneath my skin.
"You unfortunately have my attention now." I adjust my grip, making sure she's secure before pushing through the crowd.Bodies part around us, faces turning with the kind of morbid curiosity that accompanies violence. "Time to put an end to your little game.”
And hopefully whatever is keeping me from doling out punishment.
Her struggles intensify as I approach the exit, legs kicking with surprising strength for someone her size. A few well-placed strikes find the gaps in my ribs, sharp enough to sting but nowhere near enough to make me release her. The human thief has fire, I'll give her that.
"Grix." I catch my head of security's attention as we reach the main doors. His gray eyes take in the situation without surprise—he's seen me handle problems before, though usually with more permanent solutions.
"Boss?"
"I'll be back later." The words taste like ash, admission that this particular problem can't be solved with simple violence. "Handle the delegation scheduling for me."
He nods, already moving to open the door. The winter air hits us like a blade, sharp enough to make the human on my shoulder gasp and curl tighter against my warmth. Her burgundy dress offers little protection against New Solas's climate, another piece of evidence that she's not from here, not built for our world.
But the cold doesn't explain why she stops struggling, why her body goes still against mine as we step onto the snow-dusted street. I can feel her breathing, quick and shallow, can sense the way she's cataloging our surroundings for escape routes that don't exist.
The Temple of Solis rises before us like a mountain of white marble and gold veining, its twin spires reaching toward stars that seem dimmer in its presence. Divine magic radiates from its walls in waves that make my wings twitch with recognition andunease. This is the last place I wanted to bring my problems, but divine interference requires divine explanation.
"Where are you taking me?" Her voice is steadier now, though I can feel tension coiled through every line of her body.
"Somewhere with answers." I push through the temple's massive doors, my boots echoing against marble floors inlaid with precious metals. "Unless you'd prefer I throw you to the city guard instead."
The threat is empty. Especially because now that I have felt the magic between us, I can’t ignore that. I need to know what is happening, even if it means seeking help I'd rather avoid.
But she doesn’t need to know all my intentions.
The temple's interior stretches around us like a cathedral of living light, enchanted flames dancing in alcoves carved from single blocks of marble. Everything here speaks of power older than the city, older than the current political structures that keep New Solas functioning. This place remembers when xaphan served gods rather than governing them.
"Jelle." My voice carries across the empty space, echoing off vaulted ceilings painted with scenes of divine intervention. "I need consultation."
A figure emerges from the shadows near the altar, robes the color of sunrise flowing around her as she approaches. Jelle has served this temple since before Irida was born, her silver wings marked with the gold threading that identifies her as Nashai—one of the priestess-caste who handles matters too delicate for ordinary clergy.
"Mihalis." Her pale eyes take in the human draped over my shoulder without surprise, as if strange men carrying struggling women into her temple is a regular occurrence. "I was wondering when you'd arrive."
The casual statement stops me cold. "You were expecting us?"
"The threads of fate have been... active... tonight." She gestures toward one of the side chambers, her movements precise and economical. "Perhaps you should put her down so we can discuss what brings you here."
I lower the thief to her feet, keeping one hand locked around her wrist when she immediately tries to step away. Her gray-blue eyes dart between me and Jelle, calculation mixing with confusion as she takes in our surroundings.
"This is a temple," she says, as if stating an obvious fact might somehow change her circumstances.
"Very observant." Jelle's tone carries the kind of patience that comes from dealing with mortals who struggle to understand their place in larger patterns. "Come. Both of you."
