Chapter 100 – Darann #3
I stared at her for a long, heavy second. Then snorted a humorless laugh.
“Oh, something tells me you’re about to do something incredibly reckless and stupid,” I said. “So, of course, I’m coming along.”
Her jaw clenched. “Darann?—“
“No,” I cut in. “Save your breath.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but Biscuit pulsed violently, shadows twisting up her arm.
Now.
Ren’s eyes widened. “Stars above, that thing’s… pissed.”
“He does that,” she muttered weakly.
I grabbed my coat, my knives, and shoved extra firewire sticks into my belt. Then I hooked an arm around her waist before she fell over again.
“Ren,” I said without looking back.
Ren’s jaw worked. “Boss?—“
“That’s an order, Ren.”
A long beat. Then Ren nodded once. “Don’t die.”
“No promises.”
She pressed one shaking hand against Biscuit’s pulse. The wisp coiled tighter, merging with her shadow, preparing to slip us into the in-between.
She looked up at me. “You’re sure?”
I smirked. “Princess, you wound me if you think I’m letting you walk into Tempest alone and explain this shit to Tywin without me.”
A faint, pained laugh escaped her. Biscuit pulsed once, then the shadows around us began to curl and twist, the air thinning, warping, pulling?—
—and the Undercurrent opened its jaws.
The Darkness yanked us sideways.
It wasn’t meant for this. Short jumps, quick slips between shadows—that’s what it was built for. Not crossing entire districts in the span of five minutes. Not dragging two half-dead idiots through a distance that should take hours.
I’d walked the shadows for half my life, slipped through cracks in reality like a second skin, but this?
This felt like the world grabbed my spine and wrung it out like a wet cloth.
Light shattered. Sound folded in on itself. My stomach flipped inside-out and back again. Azaria’s grip went slack for half a heartbeat.
Then Biscuit yanked us the rest of the way, the little bastard overexerting itself so hard the air screamed.
The world ruptured. And spat us out.
We slammed into solid ground hard enough to rattle teeth. I rolled instinctively, dragging Azaria with me so she didn’t split her head on the stone. She landed against my chest, gasping, hands clutching at her throat.
The shadows snapped shut behind us with a violent crack that made my ears ring. I blinked until the world steadied. Familiar buildings. Ivy. Lanterns. The sound of the river nearby. I knew exactly where we were.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “We’re at your house.”
Azaria sagged in relief, then went still.
A deep, rumbling growl vibrated across the stones. I looked up and froze.
A massive silver wolf stood ten paces away, easily the size of a damned horse. Hackles raised. Fangs bared. Eyes blazing. Muscles tense, ready to launch. I could practically feel those jaws closing around my throat from where I kneeled.
He growled again, louder.
I lifted both hands slowly, because no amount of knives in the world would save me if that beast decided to rip out my throat.
“Fuck me,” I breathed. “He’s huge.”
Azaria jolted upright.
“Kalias,” she croaked. “Oh, gods… you’re all right.”
The wolf’s growl broke off instantly. His form blurred—silver fur folding inward, bones snapping and reshaping. Light bent around him, and then a man stood where the wolf had been.
Tall, broad, silver-haired, with silvery-blue eyes and a six-foot-seven frame covered in runic tattoos. Shirtless and covered in dirt and sweat. He strode toward us fast. He dropped to his knees beside Azaria, hands hovering over her face, her shoulders, her throat.
“Azaria,” he breathed, voice shaking. “Stars above—Azaria?—“
She grabbed his forearm. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Kalias, listen.”
He looked like he was about to tear me apart with his bare hands.
Azaria cut in. “Darann is a friend. He helped me. Don’t kill him.”
Kalias’s eyes snapped to me—cold, assessing, still half-feral.
I raised both palms. “I’m not the one who cut her. Calm your fur.”
He did not appreciate the phrasing.
Azaria swallowed hard. “Elaria?—”
“She is safe,” Kalias said immediately. “I took her back to the palace.”
Some of the strain in her face eased, but only for a second.
Azaria squeezed his arm again, leaning heavily on him. “Kalias, we need to get to Tywin. Now.”
His expression shifted—from protectiveness to alarm to calm, deadly focus. “What happened to you?” he demanded.
Azaria shook her head. “No time. Torven Kaelor is alive. And he is carrying an abyssal weapon the size of a city. We need Tywin. Immediately.”
Kalias stiffened. Then he scooped Azaria into his arms without another word, straightened in one smooth motion, and fixed me with a look sharp enough to cut.
“You,” he said. “Keep up.”
I dusted off my coat, grabbed my knives, and muttered under my breath: “Great. Thrown into the jaws of death and now chased by a half-naked wolf. Perfect fucking end to the day.”
Kalias glared over his shoulder. He heard that.
Azaria groaned softly. “Daz… please. Not now.”
I sighed. “Fine. Let’s go stop the apocalypse.”
Kalias shifted his stance. Azaria gripped his shoulders.
And we ran.