“How long?” I ask, my voice softer now. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Since the rift,” he answers. “TheHarethrinsaw my… abilities and deemed me fit for the role. It was all Harith—my brother-in-law’s father—could arrange to keep me from being sent to the queen’s domain. He… he called in every favour he could to ensure I remained here.”
The weight of his words hits me square in the chest. Solan isn’t some coldhearted killer revelling in his power. He’s a monster caught between survival and duty, forced into a role he didn’t choose but one he fulfills with unwavering resolve.
“And the monsters here?” I ask, glancing at the retreating figures who give him such a wide berth. “Do they respect you? Fear you?”
His lips press into a thin line, the tendrils of his sensory hair flickering faintly. “Both,” he says after a pause. “Many respect what I do because it keeps their families safe. But there are those who fear theKelvarra,who see only the death I bring and not the lives I save.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. What can I even say to that? My gut churns with the knowledge of what he’s endured—what he’sstillenduring—but more than anything, I’m grateful. Grateful that Solan is here, by my side, using that lethal precision to protect me and Jamie. Grateful that despite everything, he’s not some heartless monster.
“You’re not what I expected,” I finally say, my voice trembling with the weight of my emotions. “You’ve been throughall of that, and you still… you still care. About these monsters. About me.”
His gaze snaps to mine, surprise appearing in his glowing eyes. For a moment, the hardened exterior he wears so well seems to crack, revealing a vulnerable core beneath. “Of course I care,” he says softly. “If I didn’t, I would have become the very thing I’m meant to protect against. I couldn’t let that happen.”
The sincerity in his words sends a lump to my throat, and I nod, swallowing it down. “I’m glad you’re on my side,” I say, my voice firmer now. “Grateful as hell for it, actually.”
A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Always,” he promises, and the single word feels like an anchor in the storm of uncertainty swirling around us.
I don’t press him further as we continue through the market. I need time to process everything he’s just shared, but one thing remains crystal clear: No matter how dangerous Solan’s past—or his role as theKelvarra—might make him, there’s not a single doubt in my mind that I’m safer with him than anywhere else in this fractured world.
CHAPTER
SIX
After another fifteenminutes or so of heading through the market, it becomes more and more obvious that everyone else navigating the crowds is being jostled and having to squeeze through. But not us. It’s like Solan has an invisible shield or something around him, one that repels and creates a path for us.
Not gonna lie, it’s kind of cool in an “I’m really trying not to freak out” way. And to be honest, I’m tired of that reaction, of being scared and running on fumes. It’s a version of myself that I don’t recognise. I’m not a fan at all.
Life has taught me to take the shit thrown my way on the chin—that’s if I can’t dodge it first. My dad was a firm believer in standing up and taking action. He was incredible that way. Sure, he could be a miserable old coot, too, especially when times on the property were tough, but he persevered. He didn’t constantly question and tie himself up in knots. He simply dealt with his lot the best way he could.
It’s the reminder I need to stop questioning everything. Admittedly, I suspect Dad never experienced anything like this, but with worry being my constant, it’s time to shake it off. I’ve never worked well under a cloud of stress.
“So,” I start, determined to win this internal battle I have going on, “you think Harith will be able to help in some way?”
Solan side-eyes me and nods once before returning his full focus to the path ahead, his subtle scan of the crowd continuing. It’s something he’s been doing nonstop since we entered the town. “Yes, Jack,” he responds, my name a low grumble that tightens my gut. “Information travels fast in Terrafeara, but even more so in Myra’s Crossing.”
“Any reason for that?” I’m curious about… well, everything. Sure, Solan’s managed to magic or some shit his found TV to work, but nothing else about the place screams technology or even hints at it that I recognise. Though I do recall Solan saying something about the cities having technology. What I didn’t think to ask was what kind.
“Dracodines.”
I tug my brows low.Dracodines? Am I supposed to know what that is?
As I part my lips to ask, he gently presses two of his large fingers against my chin, tilting my head slightly so I’m looking up at the rooftops. “Look,” he says softly, and I do, but I can barely concentrate on anything but his touch. It burns, a searing heat that should cause me pain. All it does is send goose bumps erupting on my skin and draw my breaths from me unevenly.
The creatures are birdlike in as much as they have wings. They’re a similar size to a seagull, but beyond having feathers on their two wings, that’s where the similarity ends. Rather than a beak, theDracodineshave long, sharp snouts that curve slightly downwards, resembling scaled talons. Their heads are covered in small, smooth scales that glint faintly in the sunlight, giving them an otherworldly sheen. Their wings, while feathered, have a distinct leathery texture near the base, and their talons—hooked and razor-sharp—grip the rooftops with ease.
But it’s their eyes that grab my attention, making my breath hitch. Each orb is a swirling mix of colours, shifting constantly as though liquid fire flows just beneath the surface. They seem too intelligent, too perceptive, like they’re not just looking but seeing everything, dissecting it, cataloguing it. The sight sends a shiver racing down my spine.
“They look….” I hesitate, searching for the right word. “Intense.”
Solan nods, his gaze flicking to one of the perchedDracodinesbefore returning to our path. “They are.Dracodinesare used to send messages across long distances. They mimic entire sentences perfectly, word for word, tone and all.”
“Like parrots?”
A faint chuckle rumbles from him, the sound warm despite the tense set of his shoulders. “Parrots? Perhaps. But more useful and far more dangerous.”
I glance back up at theDracodine, and it tilts its head, almost as if it’s acknowledging my attention. The movement is unnerving, far too deliberate. “Dangerous how?” I ask, lowering my voice instinctively.
