{ "Seek the stars for solace; they weave magic across night's canvas."}
I paced the length of the Kayne Garden Chambers, boots striking the stone with just enough force to echo. Something in the air was shifting tangibly, painfully. The Mira magic was rising again, curling in lazy spirals through the marble arches and clawing at the back of my throat like smoke from a fire I didn't light.
"Damn it, Kayne... what are you doing?" I muttered, not expecting an answer. The scent hit me first. Not the perfume of the thorn blossoms Freyr had cultivated around the inner columns, but him. That feral, ancient heat that meant Kayne was close. Or worse, waking.
A tremor rippled through my spine, and something deep beneath the surface of this plac, a groan, writhed through the marrow of the stones stirred. Not audible, but felt. Kayne was rising. His beast, unbound by reason or pact. Raw, perfect power. A storm given tooth.
My breath caught.
