Aguard walked beside Elora, thankfully keeping his hands to himself. It had been a few days since Thorn’s promise to “deal with” Gerard, and she was surprised he’d actually followed through. She was even more surprised that Gerard had listened, though she supposed nobody would defy Thorn.
She stopped at the threshold of Thorn’s study, and glanced inside, expecting to see him preparing the usual instruments. But the room was empty. She felt the guard’s hand on the small of her back, urging her forward down the corridor.
This was unusual. If he wasn’t in his study, then… was he not taking her blood today? The guard steered her deeper into the dungeon, and with each step, the air grew colder, heavier, her unease prickling to life once again.
When they reached their destination, the guard pushed open a heavily secured door, revealing a room that was darker than Thorn’s brightly lit study. The air inside was heavy, thick with a strange, oppressive energy. The moment Elora stepped inside, her stomach dropped.
There, bound to the far wall, was a man.
The color of his skin, deep like a burnished chestnut, told her immediately what he was, an Al’teran. The Empire’s enemies to the north. Elora had seen Al’terans before, had even known one personally, sort of. Arria had Al’teran blood. It was what gave her skin that shimmering quality in the sunlight, something Elora had always thought was beautiful.
But this man… he was different. She had seen no one like him before. He possessed an otherworldly quality, something that made her question whether he was entirely human at all.
His skin gleamed with the same ethereal glow she’d seen in Arria, but his presence held something beyond mere beauty. His eyes, a striking gold that glowed softly in the gloomy chamber, locked onto hers with an intensity that made a sharp tension coil in her chest.
A strange warmth radiated from him. It wasn’t just his appearance; it was the feeling he gave off, like an extension of Mahoamorah itself. Potent energy thrummed in the room, as if the tree’s spirit coursed through his veins.
Whowasthis man, and how was he able to wield such a powerful presence? She held his gaze, unsure if she should feel drawn to him… or afraid.
She hadn’t even noticed that Thorn was standing over the man. The friction was palpable, and a shiver crawled up Elora’s spine as the man’s burning stare didn’t waver from hers.
His gaze was sharp, so sharp that it seemed he was staring directly into her soul, peeling back the layers of who she was and seeing something far deeper. Something she didn’t want anyone to see. The power of it made her shudder, and she immediately looked away, but it didn’t help. She could stillfeelhim watching her.
“Elora,” Thorn’s voice broke through the tension. “Come closer.”
Her body froze at the command, but she stepped forward, her legs wobbling beneath her. She couldn’t take her eyes off the man, though part of her wanted to look away, wanted to pretend she hadn’t seen the power and torment etched into his face.
“Do you know what this is?” Thorn asked, as if he were showing her a piece of alchemical equipment, rather than a living, breathing being.
“No,” she stammered, barely able to find her voice.
Thorn turned to face her, a small, supercilious smile playing upon his lips. “Of course you don’t,” he said. “Why would you? Few have ever seen one of his kind.”
His kind. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from thinking of him as different, but hearing Thorn refer to him as less than human made her hands ball into fists.
Thorn approached the chained man, his fingers clutching the man’s chin roughly, tilting his head up so their eyes met. The man’s golden eyes flared with boldness, but he remained silent under Thorn’s touch.
“This,” Thorn said, with a smug satisfaction, “is aThrask. A shifter.”
“Grorn’rath drath’mal thrukar krith.” He gritted the words out, glaring at Thorn with a hatred so fierce it made Elora shudder.
She had no idea what he had said, but the intensity of his voice caused goosebumps to prickle her arms. “What did he say?”
Thorn shrugged. “I don’t know, and I don’t care,” he said dismissively, releasing the man’s chin with a sharp snap of his wrist.
Elora shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting between Thorn and the prisoner. “What’s a shifter?” she asked, the question burning in her mind. She’d heard whispers of such things, but this, this, was unlike anything she had ever encountered.
Thorn turned toward her, the cruel smile still playing on his lips, his eyes glinting with something close to amusement. “Let me show you.”
Thorn reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a ring. It shone with an unnatural light, gold swirling like liquid as he slipped it onto his finger. She immediately knew it was enchanted.
He approached the Al’teran, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. Suddenly, a burst of electricity shot from Thorn’s palm into the man’s body.
He growled, his body spasming. His teeth clenched, his eyes blazing with fury as he tried to resist the pain, but Thorn didn’t relent. The man’s breathing became ragged, and his snarl deepened, a guttural sound that seemed almost… inhuman.
Then his body changed.
One moment, he was a man, gritting his teeth and fighting against the torment. The next, his body contorted, his muscles rippling unnaturally as ebony fur erupted on his skin. His bones splintered and reshaped.
