AYLA – POV
I couldn't sleep after the scream.
It wasn't just any scream—it was the kind that claws its way up from the soul and rips through the air like a blade. I bolted upright in the tent Kael had insisted we share for safety, heart thudding in a rhythm I couldn't control.
He was already out of bed. Barefoot. Shirtless. Sword drawn.
I followed.
The forest was too quiet. The trees felt wrong. Not dangerous—empty. Like they were holding their breath. Watching.
Kael stepped ahead of me, shoulders rigid. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. I could feel it through the bond. Something had broken. Something old. Something sacred.
And then we saw it.
A trail of blood, soaked deep into the moss. Not just droplets—a smear. Dragged.
Kael dropped to his knees and pressed his fingers into it.
Still warm.
"She was taken," he muttered.
"Who?"
He didn't answer.
A howl tore through the silence. Not a call for help. A challenge.
