Theron POV
For a moment, nobody moved.
Dorian's words hung in the air like smoke after an explosion — heavy, choking, impossible to ignore.
"She already is."
Elara stiffened in Kaelen's arms.
Mira's hand went to her knife on instinct.
Kaelen's jaw clenched so sharply the muscle twitched.
I was the only one who stepped forward.
"Dorian," I said quietly, "close the door."
He slammed it shut so fast the hinges rattled. Outside, the fortress was in chaos — boots pounding, voices rising, the sound of fear accelerating with every second.
"She's already the Anchor," Kaelen repeated, voice low, dangerous. "Explain. Now."
Dorian dragged a hand across his face. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. His coat was ripped at the sleeve. Dust streaked his boots. He smelled like travel, old stones, and secrets.
