> The chamber was quiet, but Lucian could feel the heat of judgment pressing in from all corners—like unseen hands grazing his throat.
The Council had reconvened.
This time, not as observers, but as accusers.
He sat before them in his ceremonial black, his crimson seal glinting like a wound. Around him, the air grew still, pulsing with magic held back by silence and tension.
"You've been seen again with the boy," one councilor said. "The same boy who should have died."
Lucian said nothing. Knowing Kyrell is home with him. Not since that night in the forest. Since Kyrell's hands trembled against his skin and something inside Lucian cracked open like a coffin exposed to light.
"The hunter clans stir," said another. "There are whispers. A scent of betrayal."
Betrayal.
He almost laughed. If they only knew how far betrayal had already seeped into him—like cold wine through silk.
"And what of Renak?" someone snapped. "He delivers warnings and vanishes. He spoke of danger. We believed it. But you—"
"I am the danger," Lucian said finally, his voice low.
That silenced the room. Even the ancient above them—Morian, with her shriveled hand clasping her cane—lifted her cloudy eyes.
"Then show us," she rasped, "that you still remember who you are. And what you are not."
Lucian rose.
He felt his hunger tightening around his ribs like a belt. Not just for blood—but for control. For Kyrell. For clarity.
He had thought desire was a thing he could tame, like fire. Now he knew better.
There were flames in his veins. And they all spelled Kyrell's name.
---
> Meanwhile, across the kingdom, beneath the mountain's shadow...
Damien sharpened his blade in silence.
He'd found Kyrell's old coat tucked beneath roots, still stained with Lucian's scent.
His fingers curled into the fabric.
"You should've stayed with me," he whispered. "You belonged to me first."
Silas stepped into view again, eyes cold. "You still think this is about love?"
"No," Damien said. "It's about possession."