*Rhys*
The air crackled with hostility, heavy and suffocating as the midsummer heat. Our standoff at the edge of Blackstone's territory had escalated far beyond mere words.
Malcolm stood beside me, his hand twitching toward the hilt of his sword, mirroring the restless movements of Beta Silas' men.
"Rhys," Malcolm hissed through clenched teeth, "we can't stand for this."
"Steady," I urged, my voice a calm contrast to the tension that thrummed between us all. The sense of an impending clash was almost tangible. But I knew too well the cost of violence. My visions, haunting and vivid, had shown me enough futures soaked in needless death.
"Silas," I called out, fixing my gaze upon the towering figure before us. His stature was imposing, and his presence undeniable, but I sensed an openi
