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“Yes,” Mia’s likeness said.

“How is that possible?”

“I can’t tell you. Caiven was known to keep grafts. Maybe she found one.”

“And Whart? Does he know yet?”

“He does now. She and a few of the Argent’s people took down one of the specters.”

Neir’s mood lifted. It was only a flash, but Jarek was sure he saw its yellow sheen in the dark. “With the Wraith?”

“Unless it’s capable of blowing a crater in the ground, I don’t think so.” Mia’s gaze drifted to Jarek. “We need to go.”

“There’s no rush. Let Whart find her and wear her down. Kael’s man should be keeping a close watch to stop him from killing her.”

Neir’s tone fell harsh. “Luka.”

The boy emerged from his hiding space, eyes landing on Jarek before he was jerked to Neir. The Stalker dropped to one knee.

The blade’s dampening effect left Jarek unable to move. He tried to speak to Luka’s fear, willing his soul to pull the energy for it, but it only flickered like a dying candle.

Neir offered Luka a hint of kindness. “Try.”

Luka hesitated, eyes jumping between Neir’s arm and his face. “I can’t. I’ll fall.”

“You won’t,” Neir said, gently. “Trust me.”

Luka licked his lips, then looked down, resting his hand on Neir’s wrist. Silence accompanied the radiant glow that filled the center of the room. As soon as the bone snapped into place, the Stalker rose with a triumphant laugh.

“Perfect, Luka,” Neir praised, stretching the mended limb. “You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”

Luka stumbled away on unsteady feet, searching the ground for an answer he couldn’t comprehend.

That should’ve rendered him unconscious. Even using borrowed auras exhausted him. The Guardian’s energy swelled inside him stronger than it had in the weeks prior.

The god was in three pieces, but now…

“What did you do?” Jarek asked, breathless.

Neir grinned, and with a flick of his wrist, Luka was pulled across the room to the arms of a waiting Mia. He rifled through a coat pocket, tossing her a small jar of escence.

“Wait for me.”

Mia nodded just before she and Luka disappeared.

Fiery pain tore through Jarek as he writhed with the blade buried in his shoulder. Neir stalked over to him. “I did mean it when I said I admired you. But your actions at the end of your life were too sudden. Thoughtless. And who could blame you? Sometimes I feel as if my body will burst with this shard I have. Influence vastly insignificant to what you were asked to keep.”

Jarek’s vision spun. Lilith. He needed to get to her. “Maybe you do understand,” he found himself saying.

There was a long pause. “You seem like a reasonable man, so believe me when I tell you I wasn’t responsible for the loss of your sister.”

“Brialis is dead, then.”

“Not dead. Never dead.”

A gentle glow lifted Jarek’s twirling gaze to Neir, kneeling out of reach. Pulsing light fed through the Stalker’s veins across his hand, illuminating details Jarek couldn’t make out in the dark, giving him a clear look at who he actually was. Tanned skin, a square, bruising face, and short hair as deeply red as his soul.

Someone Jarek immediately recognized. Adorned in fox pelts, taunting Draven to do better while praising Caine, and never far from Valen’s side.