Soren broke through the treeline, a silver-white blur of motion. He didn't look like an Emperor; he looked like a force of nature. His cloak was torn, his face was smeared with soot and blood, and his eyes were glowing with a terrifying, sapphire light.
Bjorn was at his side, the wolf launching himself at the dazed fourth bear with a snarl of primal fury. Ryse and Jorel followed, their blades drawn, falling upon the remaining beast with the efficiency of a pack of winter wolves.
The fourth Drogar had no time to realize its target had changed. It lunged, a ton of crystalline fur and predatory muscle, but Soren reached Eris in a blur of motion that defied the deep snow. He didn't just step between them; he became a bastion of the North.
He dropped beside her for a fraction of a second, his hand clutching her shoulder. "Are you... "
The bear's roar drowned him out, a sound of wet, grinding rage.
