The entire cavern is watching me.
I only see her.
The foreign ache in my groin pounds once, so hard my lifeblood surges. Mydra-kirslams a single, absolute truth into every corner of my skull.
When the transformation is complete, I will make her mine. And nothing in the dust will stop me.
Chapter 11
SCOUTING MISSIONS ARE THE WORST TIME TO GLOW IN THE DARK
KOL
Ispend the rest of the sol pacing the high ridges. The loyalty from the reveal has not faded, but the restless energy tearing through my muscles will not let me stand still. By the time Ain sinks below the dust and the cavern darkens, I have made my decision.
The loyalty still hums through the mindspace when I give the order.
“I lead the perimeter scout this dark.”
The response is instantaneous. A surge of fierce, aggressive energy slams back through the mindspace from every warrior in the cavern. They are ready. They want blood.
“Dra-dam, you cannot,” Rok projects on a tight, private frequency. “Your body is unstable. Let me lead the patrol.”
I shut him out.
I stalk past the dying central fire and begin assembling the deep-dust scouting party.
“Guard the camp,” I project to Sarven.
My assigned second barely gives a tilt of his chin before I turn my back on the cavern.
My body fights every step toward the entrance.
The instinct to stay inside the cavern is like a hook buried under my transforming skin. It does not want me to leave her. But I must.
Lucek is coming.
I must find him and break his neck before he makes it this far.
“Move!” I project a sharp, grating command at the scouting party.
I force my legs forward. Every step tightens the invisible, agonizing cord attached to my sternum.
We area solmark out along the eastern ridge, tracing the outer edge of our territory.
Ain has long gone to rest. The dust is a freezing, pitch-black void.
My eyes adjust seamlessly, filtering the absolute black. Every jagged stone and steep drop is perfectly clear.
We move like desert wind. No glow. Complete silence. We are perfectly camouflaged against the dark stone, gliding soundlessly over the dunes.
I take the fore. The shift inside my chest is a constant, grinding burn. But it is doing something terrifying to my senses. The scraping sound of a small mite a thousand lengths away? I hear it. The subtle shift of a sand runner beneath a cave? I hear that too.
I abruptly stop walking and raise a single fist. The scouting party instantly drops into low, silent combat crouches behind me.
The wind shifts through the narrow gorge ahead.
My nostrils flare, pulling in a deep volume of the freezing air.
