The slow clap echoed across the clearing like a taunt, each strike of palm against palm too measured, too calm in the aftermath of carnage.
Kael's stance hardened, blades drawn, blood dripping from his shoulder. His chest rose and fell with controlled breath, though Aria could see the tremor in his arm from the wound. Still, he made himself an unmovable wall between her and the newcomer.
The stranger stepped into the thin wash of moonlight. He looked nothing like the hunters sprawled around them. Where their armor was scuffed leather, his was simple dark cloth, unmarked by blood or dirt. His hair was as pale as his skin, a color that seemed to drink the light rather than reflect it. His eyes, those eyes were glacial, silver threaded with ice.
Aria felt herself recoil though she hadn't moved. Recognition coiled inside her stomach, sharp as a blade. The circle. The dream. The figure who had spoken without sound, promising he could understand.
Now he stood in flesh and bone.
