The shadows in the corner of the chamber thickened, twisting like smoke underwater. They curled upward in slow, deliberate spirals, as if tasting the air. The lanterns flickered violently, their silver flames sputtering as if suffocating under an unseen weight.
Elara’s breath caught in her throat.
Riven’s voice slithered through her mind, low and dangerous. “That is him. The one who walks between worlds. The one who should stay in his own world, preferably far away from ours.”
Theron shifted halfway, claws out, teeth bared, his lycan roaring beneath his skin. His muscles bulged, his eyes glowed gold, and his breath came in harsh, furious bursts.
“ELARA, GET BACK!”
But Elara could not move.
The shadows pulsed once, twice, like a heartbeat syncing with her own. The cold tug in her ches
