Eyrx didn't pause.
He didn't look to the villagers who whispered and fretted.
He didn't care for their nervous glances or the rumors spilling from every corner. No one noticed him, and if they did, they didn't dare speak.
He was something else. Something old. Something no one wanted to provoke.
Thalina remained asleep the entire journey, her face tucked into his chest as though she belonged there. Even Vanora didn't lift her head.
Eyrx passed through the village like a ghost, slipping into the dark forest again, vanishing toward wherever he intended to take them—away from the noise, away from the eyes.
But his thoughts were not quiet.
Not anymore.
The weight of the ceremony. The girl who conjured fire far too early. The strange bond between her and the pink wolf. The way she affected his cold, lifeless instincts—made his skin burn, his focus blur.
She was a puzzle he had not been prepared to solve.
And time was running out.
...
