Chapter 122: Feathers, Fabric, and Fault Lines
Elyn's POV
After what felt like hours of waiting—shuffling forward inch by inch, listening to demons complain loudly about fabrics, prices, and each other—we finally stepped foot into the shop.
And immediately, chaos followed.
Someone shoved past us from behind, hard enough that Azerion stumbled forward. It happened fast—too fast. One moment he was at my side, the next his body went taut, shoulders rolling back, pupils narrowing into sharp slits.
Oh no.
I grabbed him instantly, fingers curling into his sleeve, yanking him back against me just before he attacked. I felt it then—that dangerous, coiled tension under his skin. Azerion wasn't just annoyed. He was offended. And offended Syrenthis were… well, they were as dangerous as a normal Syrenthis, I thought.
"Azerion," I said quietly, warning threaded through his name.
