Lana
Our steps had nearly reached the end of the back corridor when a deep voice stopped us.
"Let her go."
Sylas and I immediately froze. My breath caught.
That voice…
I turned—and there, standing tall under the shadow of the arched entrance to the inner courtyard, was Lucen.
The royal guard uniform still clung to his frame. His red hair was neatly tied back. A long sword hung at his waist.
His gaze was sharp. But not at me.
At Sylas.
"Damn demon…" Sylas muttered, his hand still gripping my wrist.
Lucen stepped forward calmly, but the air around them shifted. It vibrated—like the threshold of a magical duel.
"Did you forget what happened the last time we fought?" Sylas said, his tone slick but edged, voice dropping an octave. "Or do I need to remind you… where you ended up? Bleeding, bound, on your knees?"
Sylas pulled me closer—protectively, almost reflexively.
But Lucen didn't flinch. He stopped just a few steps from us and stared Sylas down, cold and resolute.
