The sound hung in the air, low and guttural, a reminder that whatever just happened—whatever Kael forced into her with that kiss—had burned through the corruption but left her shaking, hating, needing. Her golden eyes didn’t waver though. Not for a second.
–––––––––––
Back at the stronghold, the air stank of blood and smoke. The fire pit hissed with half-burnt meat, Elias’s mop sat abandoned in a dirty bucket, and silence pressed heavy around them.
No one spoke of the fight. Not Kael. Not Clara. Not Lyra or Crimora. They didn’t need to. The corpses outside had said enough.
Selvara sat chained again, arms crossed tight, jaw locked. She refused to look at anyone. Especially him. But her ears twitched every time Kael moved, and when the sound of his boots scraped against stone, her claws
