The Pack of the Eclipse—a sea of wolves from every walk of life—remained bowed in the valley below, their breathing synchronized into a low, rhythmic hum. But my focus was entirely on the man whose hand I held.
The Being. The Synthesis.
As the morning sun climbed higher, casting long, golden shadows across the ruins of the Great Seal, the red flicker in his eyes grew more intense. It wasn't just a glint of light; it was a pulse. The grip he had on my hand tightened, his skin turning feverishly hot.
“Lyra,” he whispered, and for the first time, the harmony of his voice faltered. It sounded like two recordings playing at slightly different speeds. “The silence… it’s too loud.”
I stepped back, but his fingers were locked around mine like iron manacles. I looked down at our shadows. In the
