Zarek
The ride back was silent, yet the weight of what had transpired pressed on me like iron. The hooves struck the earth in a steady rhythm, but inside me, nothing was steady at all.
Zachariah rode beside me, eyes fixed ahead, posture calm, though I could feel his attention coiled tight, waiting for the moment I would finally break the silence.
I did not.
My thoughts were a storm without mercy, each memory of Valtira crashing into the next. The way she had stood before me—unyielding, defiant, her spine straight even as I pleaded. The fire in her eyes, cold and furious all at once, burned itself into my mind until I could see nothing else.
At last, I turned to Zachariah, my voice rough, scraped raw by anger and restraint.
“How could she choose to stay in Draven’s pack?” I demanded,
