Its wings curled tight against its sides, the aurora shimmer of its fur glowing faintly in the dark. It turned toward theThraskwoman, head low, shoulders tight.
It growled. Low and sharp.
A command.
The woman froze.
Her fangs were still bared, her claws twitching but she didn’t move.
Elora, still gasping against the tree, stared through the haze at the creature shielding her.
She didn’t need to see his eyes to know.
“Viliam,” she breathed.
Chapter 25
Viliam
Viliam landed hard, his claws gouging into the earth as his wings folded back tight against his sides. His breath steamed in the cool air, his muscles tensed and ready, but not for Kaela. For her.
Elora.
She was crumpled at the base of the tree, her throat bruised and bleeding, her mouth parted in a pained gasp. The man beside her—human, unfamiliar—was crouched low, one arm around her waist, the other braced to shield her from further harm. He looked up as Viliam stalked forward, golden eyes blazing, the full might of his nightglider form commanding the whole space between them.
"Viliam?" Kaela’s voice was sharp, incredulous. She had her own marks along her neck. Burn marks.
Viliam shifted.
Flesh replacing fur, claws retreating into calloused fingers.
The man flinched, muttering something in the common tongue—fast, defensive, confused. Viliam didn’t understand the words, but the intent was clear: protect her.Hisarm was still around Elora’s waist.
AndElora—
She looked up at him. "Viliam," she breathed, her voice hoarse and laced with pain. Something ancient and unnameable twisted inside his chest, an invisible tether tightening between them. He couldfeelher pain, deep in his bones, as if her bruises bloomed across his own skin. No one, not even his kin, had ever echoed through him like that.
The man’s grip tightened. Viliam's jaw clenched. His instincts screamed to shove him aside, to claim space beside her, to shield her. But he didn’t. He forced himself to turn his eyes back to Kaela.
“What are you doing?” she hissed in Al’teran, low and lethal. “We came here to kill her. You know what the elders said. If we don’t act—”
“I know what we were sent to do,” he cut her off, voice like gravel. “But I won’t do it.”
He stepped between her and Elora without thinking, like he had a hundred times before for kin. “I… I feel her pain, Kaela. Not sympathy, not guilt. I feel it like it's my own.” His hand pressed briefly against his chest. “The bond isn’t like ours. It’s deeper. Wrong or right, she’s tied to me. To us.”
“She’s not one of us. She’s a corruption.” Kaela took a step forward, her eyes narrowing. Viliam tensed. Her claws flexing. “You would risk all of Al’tera for her?”
He turned, just slightly, enough to see Elora over his shoulder, but not enough to give Kaela his back. “She’s not the Empire. She didn’t choose what was done to her.”
“Her existence pulls the roots out of rhythm. If she lives, the rot inNyt’morahmay never stop. Youfeltit.”
“I did,” Viliam said. “And I feel it still. Every day. But this—” he motioned toward Elora, “—this isn’t corruption. It’s something incomplete. Unstable, yes. Misused, yes. But not evil.”
Kaela’s voice was hard. “It doesn’t matter what itmeans, Viliam. It matters what itdoes. She unbalances the land. Maybe killing her would restore it.”
“Or maybe it won’t.” His voice lowered, tight with restraint. “We don’tknow. And I will not trade her life for a guess. We’re not executioners. We’re guardians. If there’s even a chance there’s another way,I have to find it.”
“Even if it means risking everything?”
