The Shade’s head tilts. It doesn’t look at me. That, more than anything else, tells me the truth. It knows I’m here but simply doesn’t care.
I force myself to slow, to breathe, to keep my steps measured as I close the distance. The wards buzz against my skin, a warning and a promise all at once. Whatever the Shade did to them, it didn’t break them completely. It’s inside by invitation, loophole, or clever manipulation—but it’s constrained.
For now.
“Elias,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the roar in my ears. “Don’t move.”
His head snaps toward me, relief flaring so bright it nearly drops me to my knees. “Boone.”
I’m there in two strides, placing myself between him and the Shade without breaking eye contact with either of them. My body reacts before my mind can catch up—stance widening, shoulders rolling back, every inch of me broadcasting ownership and threat.
Mine.
The Shade’s gaze finally shifts to me.
Up close, the wrongness is overwhelming. There’s no echo to it, no resonance with the land beneath its feet. It stands on Yellowstone’s sacred ground like an insult, like a scar that never healed properly.
“Guardian,” it says, voice soft and dry, as if unused. “You arrived sooner than expected.”
My teeth bare of their own accord. “Leave.”
It smiles. The expression doesn’t reach its eyes. “We are still speaking,” it replies. “That suggests negotiation.”
“There is nothing to negotiate,” I growl. “You’re not welcome here.”
The Shade’s head tilts again, studying me with unsettling focus. “You are bound,” it observes. “Distracted. Compromised.”
Elias inhales sharply behind me.
“You followed us,” I say. “You tested the wards. You waited.”
“Yes,” the Shade agrees calmly. “You are thorough. But you are… singular.”
“And you are trespassing,” I snap. “State your purpose.”
The Shade’s gaze slides past me—to Elias. “You carry a resonance,” it says to him, voice almost gentle. “You walk between thresholds without knowing their names. You called out to me.”
Elias blanches, quickly shaking his head. “Erm… no, I didn’t. That’s something I would have remembered doing.”
“No,” the Shade says softly. “Not aloud, but your presence attracts attention and speaks to me.” Its gaze shifts—slowly, deliberately—from Elias to me. For the first time, the weight of its attention settles fully on my presence, and its composure falters.
“You stand together,” it observes. There’s no anger or even accusation. “Bound.”
I step to the left anyway, obstructing its view of Elias, my body a line it will not cross. “You will address me.”
The Shade studies us both, and then its expression shifts.
The sharp edge of its attention dulls. Its posture slackens, like a creature that has reached the end of a long road and finally realized it’s not welcome at the destination.
“You have chosen,” it says quietly. “You are mates.”
The word lands like a stone dropped into still water.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
Elias stiffens behind me, breath hitching. Worry slithers through me until I don’t sense any fear radiating from him. I feel his hand curl tighter into the fur on my back, grounding himself in the truth of it.
The Shade’s eyes dim, almost hollowing. Sorrow bleeds through its presence, seeping into the air like cold mist.
