Elira's wrists burn beneath the iron cuffs.
The Wolfbound Legion marches ahead and behind — a silent wall of steel and shadows. Their wolf-helms glint red in the rising sun, making them look less like men and more like predators.
Kael rides beside her, reins held loosely in one hand, the other resting near his sword. His warhorse snorts, steam curling into the cold morning air.
He doesn't look at her.
Not once.
Last night's nightmare still clings to her skin like frost, but there is no room for weakness here.
She stumbles over a fallen spear. The iron chain connecting her to the saddle jerks tight — she crashes to her knees.
Mud splashes up her face.
Not a single soldier slows. Not a single head turns.
Kael speaks without looking her way:
"Stand."
The command is simple.
Cold.
And absolute.
She forces her shaking legs to obey.
"Am I your prisoner?" she asks, breath fogging in the chill.
He allows the silence to stretch until it hurts.
"You are an unknown power dropped into my war," he finally replies. "Until I understand you, you are whatever I decide you are."
She bites back a retort.
A raven caws overhead — guttural, like a warning.
Smoke still rises from where the battlefield smolders behind them, blackening the brightening sky. She sees broken siege towers in the distance — charred to skeletal remains. Villages burned to ash. Crops trampled under fleeing boots.
This world is tearing itself apart.
"What are you fighting for?" she asks.
Kael's eyes slide to her — a brief, burning glance.
"For the right to choose my own fate," he says.
The chain pulls them forward again.
A low growl.
Not human.
The Legion freezes as one — silent, hands to weapons. Kael signals with two fingers, and wolves in armor move like controlled shadows.
Elira's heart races.
From the ruins ahead, shapes lumber into view — Abyss-spawn, creatures of twisted flesh and jagged bone, as if the world itself screamed and monsters answered.
Kael's voice, a blade of calm:
"Stay behind me."
"I'm chained to your horse," she mutters.
He ignores that — his focus already razor-sharp, sword sliding free with a hiss.
The closest creature charges, claws like scythes.
Kael meets it head-on — a blur of deadly precision. His blade cuts through its skull, black blood spraying across the mud.
Another leaps for Elira.
Time slows.
Flashes from her nightmare — silver chains — a throne — gold eyes.
Her fear spikes.
Light erupts.
A surge of pure white starlight bursts from her palms, hitting the beast mid-air — flinging it backwards in a smoking arc.
The Legion halts.
Every masked head turns toward her.
Kael's sword drops low. His voice drops lower.
"…You will explain that," he growls.
Elira stares down at her shaking hands, skin still glowing faintly.
"I don't understand it," she whispers. "I don't understand me."
The serpent's voice curls through Kael's blood, possessive and cruel:
> She is power. Use her. Own her. Devour her.
He clenches his fists until knuckles whiten.
"Move," he orders — but this time, his voice has changed.
Not cold.
Careful.
As if she is a spark that could ignite a kingdom.
They walk again — but the air has shifted.
Fear.
Curiosity.
Uneasy respect.
The Wolfbound Legion keeps a wider distance — wary of the light that scorched the dark.
Kael rides closer now. Too close. Watching every breath she takes.
Finally, she gathers courage to speak:
"What do you want from me?"
He looks down at her — expression unreadable.
"To find out whether the gods sent me a weapon…"
He leans in — golden eyes catching sunlight like wildfire.
"…or a warning."