AYLA'S POV
The soldiers' silence clings like smoke.
Not reverent. Not respectful. Just waiting—for Kael to falter, for the abyss to rip through him, for me to admit what I already know: he's walking a knife's edge and bleeding with every step.
But they don't see what I see.
I see the tremor in his hand when he forces the claws back into nothing. I hear the crack in his voice when he speaks like a man holding fire in his lungs, burning himself with every word. And I feel the bond—the way it sears hotter when the abyss pushes, the way it strains when he denies it.
He's fighting. He's still Kael.
And gods help me, I won't let him forget that. At least not in this life.
"Lower your blades," I say, stepping forward, voice cutting sharper than steel. "Or you'll prove yourselves more blind than brave."
