Lykor hated it. Hatedhim.
And yet beneath that seething hatred, something deeper and more treacherous stirred—a shadow he dared not confront.
“No,” Jassyn finally answered, his tone infuriatingly defiant. He drew himself up, towering just enough to make Lykor’s annoyance spike. “I’m coming with you.”
Exasperated, Lykor threw his hands up, a sharp breath hissing between his teeth. He was tired of fucking around. “Fine.”
With a flick of his wrist, he unraveled the open portal, its destination irrelevant now. This washisoperation, and he would take control the way he always did—by force. Jassyn’s obstinacy wasn’t worth the fight, and if he was so star-bent on following, then Lykor would ensure it would be onhisterms.
“If you insist on accompanying me,” Lykor sneered, “then make yourself useful.” He thrust out his palm. “Essence. Now.”
Jassyn hesitated, suspicion flickering across his face. But he complied, drawing a sphere of light from his chest. Before he could fully extend his arm, Lykor snatched the orb, its energy crackling into his Well as he absorbed it.
“And not a word,” Lykor growled, ripping open another gateway, “when we get to the other side.”
CHAPTER 21
LYKOR
“Goats?” Jassyn spluttered when he stepped through the portal behind Lykor, disbelief strangling his voice as the void vanished.
“What did I just fucking say?” Lykor snapped, yanking open the gate to the makeshift pasture nestled deep in one of the stronghold’s crevices.
Bioluminescent vines and moss clung to volcanic rock, casting a faint glow. Overhead, bridges arched into a stony lattice, their shadows swallowed by the gloom. In the distance, the fortress shuddered again, faint tremors shaking the ground.
The dwindling seconds pounded against Lykor’s chest, each a driving spike. His people were slipping away to safety, but the elves were closing in. Time was a blade against his throat—he had to finish this swiftly.
Lykor whistled sharply and flicked his wrist, slicing the air open with another portal. The rift unfurled, the other end spilling open to a secluded stretch of rolling green hills—a sanctuary far from civilization where the herd would be safe.
Jassyn’s lips twitched as forty pocket goats trotted toward them, their woolly heads bobbing and jostling. A few bold onesbutted against his legs as they milled around. “You’re seriously evacuatinggoats?”
“I didn’t ask you to follow me,” Lykor muttered. Delicate hooves pattered like rain on stone as the flock converged.
Aesar grumbled in his mind.This detourisexcessive.He retreated back into the library, rubbing the mirrored ache in his skull.
Lykor clenched his jaw as he watched the goats vanish through the rift one by one, their bleats dissolving into silence. He’d already ensured that Aiko made it to the jungle, but the forest wasn’t an option for the flock—especially not now with dracovae that would be eager to snatch them up.
The last goat hesitated at the portal, tiny hooves tapping before it leaped through. An absurd pang clamped Lykor’s chest as he collapsed the rift. He wasn’t going to miss the flock—he barely tolerated their incessant bleating—but they had meant something once. An attempt to give the wraithlings a shred of normalcy in this merciless world.
And he couldn’t abandon even these creatures to the fate that awaited them—slaughter. Blood was blood and his hands were already drenched.
Lykor rolled his shoulders, as if that would shake off the invisible touch of Jassyn’s probing gaze. “What?” he bit out, turning toward the elf.
Jassyn shook his head. “Nothing,” he said lightly, but a grin fought to surface. “I just didn’t expect…” He gestured around the cavern. “This.”
Lykor bristled, certain Jassyn was mocking him. And yet, against all reason, some treacherous part of him wondered what it would take for that half-formed grin to stretch into a real smile. A fleeting, insidious thought—one he crushed instantly, stamping it out like a stray ember before it could ignite into something worse.
Aesar, ever vocal, withheld his usual barbs, though Lykor sensed his amusement. He floundered briefly for what to say, but a pulse of thundering Essence spared him.
The thrum of energy jerked his eyes up to the bridges. Dread thrashed in his gut. He’d idled for far too long.
Elves—the mixed-blood from the academy—flooded the paths above, their white leather armor haloed by Essence. The fortress groaned, another tremor shaking the foundation. Cracks raced through the stone walls, showering the cavern floor with dust and loose shards.
Portals ruptured the air beside them.
DRACOVAE’S TITS!
With no time to think, Lykor seized Jassyn’s arm and warped. The world blurred and—
