The silence after the sibilant voice was heavier than the Starwind’s scream had been. It was a predatory quiet, filled with the promise of coiled strikes and venom. The Serpent Clan did not surround them; they infused the space, their presence a subtle pressure on the air, a scent of dry dust and cold stone.
Ren slowly rose to his feet, pushing past the bone-deep exhaustion. The pilot light of hope that had flickered moments ago was banked, hidden behind a mask of wary neutrality. He met the golden, slitted gaze of the spine-crested woman. He did not summon his power. In his current state, it would be a sputter, not a blaze. And something in her calm, assessing demeanor told him a show of force would be the wrong move.
“We quieted the scream to save the land,” Lyra said, her voice steady
