The Maiden in Steel
When Victor heard what the man said, he immediately understood why the crowd had gathered like flies to honey.
They weren't here for a quest.
They weren't here for work.
They were here to look at Clara.
His good mood cooled.
Not shattered—just cooled.
Though Clara wasn't officially his woman yet, Victor had already drawn a quiet line in his heart. She stood within his circle. Within his notice.
And these men crowding the entrance like starving wolves?
Unpleasant.
Very unpleasant.
The golden warmth in his eyes dimmed.
Something colder surfaced.
Victor didn't shout.
He didn't step forward aggressively.
He simply breathed out.
And released it.
It started like a whisper in the air—thin, invisible, almost imperceptible. Then it thickened. A pressure descended, not crushing but suffocating. The space around the guild entrance seemed to shrink.
Those standing closest felt it first.
A prickle at the back of the neck.
A chill crawling down the spine.
