Remove the hand.
Remove the man.
Across the stall, Elowen finally pulls her hand free, the faint warmth of irritation pulsed through the connection between us.
“Good day,” she says shortly.
She leaves without looking back.
The merchant watches her go with open interest, entirely unaware that the simple act of touching her has placed him within inches of annihilation.
The square slowly returns to its usual rhythm. But the rage inside me slams through me so savagely that the shadows around my form ripple outward like disturbed water. Infernal energy surges to the surface of my skin, eager and immediate.
My first instinct is simple.
Erase him.
The urge is almost overwhelming. One flicker of true flame would reduce the man to ash before he could draw another breath. The memory of Garruk’s hand on her arm ignites the same ancient fury coiled deep within my nature.
No one touches what is mine. The bond roars in agreement. But her voice echoes in my memory.
You will not kill anyone.
The command settles over my instincts like a blade pressed carefully against my throat. Restraint. With visible effort, I force the infernal surge back beneath my control.
Across the square, Elowen walks, agitated. I can feel her. Her pulse is elevated, but the fear never reaches the same sharp spike it did yesterday.
The bond quiets slightly. Good.
I remain still until she disappears down the narrow lane leading back toward the apothecary. Then I move.
Dark energy coils through my veins like a storm finally allowed to break. The restraint required to remain unseen while another male touched her was… considerable. The bond hums with the echo of my irritation.
The merchant turns back to his stall, humming under his breath as he rearranges the baskets of fruit and dried goods scattered across his counter. The easy confidence of his posture suggests he believes the interaction went well. That assumption does not last long. A thread of heat slips from my hand and coils around the wooden frame of his stall. Not enough to destroy, just enough to make my point clear.
The wood darkens instantly, the grain splitting as sudden heat surges through it. A heartbeat later the canvas awning bursts into flame, the fire spreading across the frame with frightening enthusiasm.
The merchant yelps and leaps backward as sparks shower across the dirt.
“What—!”
His shout dissolves into frantic hysterics as he grabs the nearest bucket and begins throwing water wildly at the spreading fire.
Villagers nearby rush to help, shouting and scrambling to save what they can. No one looks toward the shadows. Through the bond, I feel Elowen pause halfway down the lane leading away from the market.
Confusion pulsed through her mind like a startled bird. Another fire. The sensation brushes faintly against her thoughts, the echo of infernal heat that she is beginning to recognize without understanding.
Her pulse quickens slightly.
Again.
The word forms silently within her thoughts. She does not yet realize that my actions echo faintly through the bond. Each surge of demonic power leaves a trace she can feel, like distant thunder through the earth.
In time, she will begin to connect the pattern. When she does, the questions will be… entertaining. For now, she continues toward the apothecary, though her thoughts remain tangled in quiet unease. I follow.
Shadow is effortless for my kind. I move between the narrow spaces of the mortal world where light forgets to reach, keeping pace with her steps as easily as breath.
She does not see me. But she is never alone. The decision forms with quiet certainty. Observation from a distance is no longer sufficient.
