The stranger rises slowly, and there's something about his movements that feels wrong—too fluid, too precise, like he's having to remember how limbs should work. His eyes catch the firelight in a way that human eyes shouldn't, reflecting gold for just a moment before settling into a more natural shade.
Then he sees Kaia.
The change that comes over him steals my breath—not because of what he does, but because of what he doesn't do. He goes completely still, the kind of stillness that belongs to predators and ancient things. The power rolling off him stutters, like a heart skipping a beat. When he looks at her, his expression cracks open with something so raw and complicated that I have to look away.
"I'm here," he says, and his voice carries like harmonics that make my teeth ache. "You're safe now, little star."
The corruption in her veins seems to pause its spread at his presence, or maybe it's responding to the strange energy rolling off him in waves.
"Who—" I start to ask, but Malrik's sharp intake of breath stops me.
"Kieran," he breathes, and there's something in his voice I've never heard before. "The Dragon of the Void."
Oh, I think hysterically as Kieran kneels beside us, that's just perfect. Because we definitely needed to add whatever the void this is to our mess.
But the way he touches her—gentle, reverent, like he's remembering how to handle something breakable—kills the quip on my tongue. His hands glow with light that pulses like breath, like something alive and ancient, not quite light, not quite shadow. There's a story here, written in the tension of his shoulders and the way his hands shake slightly despite their steady glow.
I look at Malrik, finding my own confusion mirrored in his silver eyes. The ache in my chest pulses, drawing me toward both him and Kaia even as this newcomer changes everything.
Well, I think as Kieran begins working magic I've never seen before, at least life's never boring.
Chapter 11
Kieran
I feel her before I see her. The pull is visceral, a hook beneath my ribs that's been empty for centuries suddenly filled again. When I land, the corrupted ground cracks beneath my feet, power rolling off me in waves that send the shadow creatures scattering. They remember what I am, even if she doesn't.
Little star.
The sight of her steals the breath I don't need. She's grown so much, but something in her face still echoes the child I knew—the same determined set of her jaw even in unconsciousness. Her wings, gods, her wings, shimmer between shadow and light, so similar to how Solveig's did. The corruption spreading across her skin makes my ancient heart stutter.
"I'm here," I manage, though the words feel clumsy in this form. "You're safe now, little star."
Malrik's sharp intake of breath draws my attention. He's grown too, no longer the solemn child who used to pepper me with questions about Absentia's history. The corruption that drove him from his realm has leftits mark—not on his body, but in the silver of his eyes—no longer the questioning gaze of a boy, but the blade-edge of a man who's lost too much.
"Kieran," he breathes. "The Dragon of the Void."
The chaos mage beside him radiates wild, unstable power—energy that crackles like a storm barely contained. But there's something in his gaze when he looks at Kaia, something that makes the ancient thing inside me stir with both approval and warning.
Shadows cluster close to her, moving with military precision, far too organized for shadow constructs. There's something in their movements, in the way they orbit her, that echoes a kind of discipline I haven't seen in centuries. One directs the others like a commander. Another scribes strange symbols in the air—shadowy script, new and unknown, but deliberate. It feels like the beginning of a language born from darkness itself.
"The corruption's spreading fast," I say, pushing back centuries of memory. "We need to get her to the sanctuary."
"You have a sanctuary in this realm?" one of the berserker twins asks, flame wreathing his form while his brother watches with frost in his hair. Neither of which should be possible.
"I have many things in this realm." The corruption recoils from my touch, but not fast enough. Another shadow forms, this one carrying the essence of a healer I once knew. "Including ways to slow this poison."
The strange wisp that's been drifting through the corruption pauses near us, its touch leaving brief flares of cleansing light. Something about its power feels familiar, though I can't place why. It hovers near Kaia's head, almost like it's trying to comfort her.
"We need to move," Malrik says, and I notice he hasn't let go of her hand. The realization hits me like ice water, the possessive way he holds her, the tender concern in his silver eyes.
No. This cannot be.
Ancient instinct flares, fierce and territorial. She is mine. The thought rises unbidden, primal and absolute. The dragon within me stirs, threatening to shatter this human form I wear. I force it down, but the rage lingers, cold and sharp beneath my skin.
I gather her into my arms carefully, her wings folding naturally against my chest. The chaos mage moves closer, his face fierce. Something in his protective stance, the desperate worry in his eyes, triggers another wave of cold fury. His gaze lingers on her face with unmistakable devotion.
Two of them? The dragon rumbles beneath my skin, demanding retribution.
