The tunnels pressed close, shadows dragging along the damp stone. My boots struck loose gravel, echoing sharp. Revik kept pace, muttering under his breath, sword half-drawn.
"I don't like this," he said, voice low. "Lyra. Alone with him. That bastard doesn't have a line he won't cross."
"He needs her alive," I said, jaw tight. "He won't risk it."
"That still leaves a hundred other ways he could screw her over. Or she puts a claw through his ribs first. Honestly, I'd bet on her."
I didn't answer. My ears were already shifting, stretching dragon-sharp. The cave unfolded—drips, fractures settling, the hiss of hidden magma. Then—
a roar.
A strike heavy enough to shiver the wall under my hand. Lyra's voice—sharp, ragged. And Muir's, too close to hers.
My chest locked. Breath vanished.
B
