"That's my problem."
"No," Velistra replied. "It'll be hers."
Lindarion's jaw clenched.
The lightning surged brighter.
And then—
Syrien darted forward, just a twitch—
—but Velistra held out one hand, stopping her.
"No," she said calmly. "Let him go."
Syrien froze. Mid-step. Her claws were already half-extended.
"You serious?"
"Maeven told us not to interfere."
Lindarion narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
"Because he wants to talk to you," Velistra said simply.
Salen didn't confirm it.
Didn't need to.
Korrash grunted again, annoyed but not resisting.
Syrien made a small sound in the back of her throat. Disappointed.
"Fine. But if he doesn't scream loud enough, I'm cutting in."
Lindarion didn't respond.
He didn't thank them.
He just lowered his hand, and kept walking.
Sylric sighed as he followed. "If this ends with me getting my arms ripped off by some winged meat puppet, I'm haunting you."
Ashwing muttered, "You'd be a lazy ghost."
