‘You should have died in combat beside the Arm,’Thrassus signed.
His final gesture cut through the air like a blade.
‘Nothing else should have taken you from him.’
For a heartbeat the temple square fell silent except for the distant roar of burning streets.
Zarrek regarded the man with a tilt of his head.
Then he barked a short laugh.
“Well,” he said, rolling his shoulders, “the pupdoeshave teeth, even if he’s too green to fight with the pack.”
Kailorien stepped between them before the tension could sharpen any further.
“Enough. Now’s not the time.”
The runes along Morvane’s plates flared as his gaze moved from one man to the other. Thrassus held the stare for a moment longer before lowering his hands. But the anger did not fade from his eyes. Zarrek rested his battleaxe against his shoulder.
Unbothered. Amused.
Kailorien ignored them both.
Because the whisper in the Bond came again.
Quieter now.
But unmistakable.
Kailorien…
He swore, spitting out a word so hideous Zarrek raised a brow.
“Zar, she’s here…”
“Who?”
“Auryn.”
Somewhere in the burning ruins of the Han.
And if she had come into this chaos…
Kailorien turned sharply toward the shattered streets beyond the temple.
“Zarrek,” he said.
The Bloodletter straightened.
“Follow me.” He looked at Thrassus. “Guard the temple. One way or another, I will return with reinforcements. Do not let them take a single soul.”
Thrassus thumped his chest. Obedient. Devoted. But as Kailorien and Zarrek retreated down the temple steps, Kailorien felt the hatred in his gaze as it followed them into the smoke.
37
First Blight
Auryn held her breath as she stepped through the portal. The magic snapped shut behind her, but its aftertaste lingered—bitter, metallic. Her limbs shook, knees weak, and heart pounding. She slid to the ground, expecting to look up and see the familiar black and crimson marble of the Resh’Agar’s wing.
