Crescent Moon held its breath as Elian stepped through the front gates.
His presence radiated something old, older than the fortress, older than the pines that crowned the hills. He walked like a soldier, but his eyes betrayed him. They were the eyes of a man who had died long ago and wasn't sure if he deserved to return.
The guards stepped aside at Alaric's order. Elian said nothing. He didn't have to. Everyone could feel the shift in the air.
Word had already reached Tina. She stood in the grand hall alone, her silver-streaked hair loose, lavender eyes burning with unspoken questions. Questions she had long since given up searching to answer. He'd been slain with the rest of the village, so she had thought, along with her mate, her sisters- this one, this warrior, he had been her best friend. More than a brother. More than a comrade.
Elian had been her Guardian.
