The air split with a low growl.
It rolled across the corridor like thunder caught in a chamber, vibrating against Zaria's bones until her knees nearly buckled. The shadow figure stiffened, its form rippling as though stitched together by smoke and malice.
And then—gold.
A flare of golden light burned at the far end of the hall, twin orbs cutting through the gloom. Zaria's heart lurched so violently she almost dropped to the floor, a cry caught in her throat.
"Lucien…"
His name was both a plea and a prayer.
The figure didn't vanish, didn't retreat—it hissed, a sound sharp and furious, like steam escaping from a wound. Its amorphous shape seemed to stretch taller, darker, as if feeding on Zaria's fear.
But Lucien was already moving.
One second he was only those blazing eyes, the next his towering form emerged from the shadows, his presence filling the narrow space, commanding it. He wasn't in his full wolf form, but something primal glimmered in the edges of his stance—the controlled violence of a predator unchained.
"Get away from her." His voice was low, guttural, threaded with something more than human.
The figure trembled, but it did not obey. Instead, it shifted closer to Zaria, as if daring Lucien, testing him.
Zaria pressed her back against the cold stone wall, her breath ragged. She didn't want to scream again—she remembered Lucien's warning about giving fear to the darkness—but her body betrayed her, trembling violently.
Lucien stepped forward, shoulders tense, fists curled at his sides. His golden eyes flared, catching every tremor of movement in the shadow's form.
"You have no place here."
The corridor seemed to shudder at the weight of his words. For a brief moment, Zaria thought the shadow would retreat—but then, with startling speed, it lunged toward her.
Zaria's cry was cut short as Lucien moved faster than her eyes could follow. He slammed into the figure, his hand catching its swirling mass. Sparks erupted where his skin met its darkness, the clash of night and light. The shadow shrieked, an otherworldly sound that made Zaria's vision blur.
"Run, Zaria!" Lucien barked.
But she couldn't. Her legs refused to obey, rooted by a mix of terror and the unbearable pull to him. The way his golden eyes burned, the way his voice wrapped around her—it wasn't just protection. It was something deeper, magnetic.
Lucien snarled, dragging the figure down the hall, but its tendrils whipped out, snapping toward Zaria like dark lashes. One grazed her arm, cold as ice, and she gasped. The mark on her neck pulsed, searing with sudden fire, and a shockwave tore through her chest.
Lucien's head snapped toward her, golden eyes wide. "No!"
The shadow tried to surge past him toward her, but something shifted inside Zaria. That same fire in her chest surged outward, a burst of invisible force that flung the tendril back. The corridor rattled as though struck by a storm.
The shadow froze.
So did Lucien.
For a suspended heartbeat, all three of them were caught in the impossible—Zaria trembling, her hand outstretched as if she had been the one to cast that wave of power.
Lucien's expression darkened, torn between awe and fury. "You… you awakened it."
The shadow screeched again, this time retreating into the darkness with a shrill whistle that rattled through the hall. It slipped into the cracks of the manor like smoke seeping beneath a door—gone, but not defeated.
Silence crashed in, heavy and suffocating.
Zaria's knees gave out, and she sank against the wall, her chest heaving. The burn on her neck throbbed in rhythm with her racing pulse.
Lucien strode toward her, golden eyes still blazing, his jaw clenched tight. He crouched in front of her, his hands hovering over her arms as if unsure whether to touch her.
"Why didn't you run?" His voice was rough, cracking under the weight of restrained emotion.
"I—I couldn't," she whispered. Her throat was dry, words rasping out like broken glass. "I wasn't afraid for me. I was afraid for you."
Lucien froze. His golden gaze searched hers, something wild flickering in his expression. For a fleeting moment, Zaria thought he might say something—something that would shatter the walls between them.
Instead, he looked away, his voice tightening. "That shadow isn't just a creature. It's tied to you. And now…" His eyes returned to her, narrowing, "it's tied to your power."
Zaria shivered. "My… power?"
He nodded once, grim. "The bond. It's awakening more than you realize. That mark isn't just a symbol—it's a channel. And tonight, it nearly cost you everything."
Her fingers ghosted over the place where the tendril had touched her, still cold, still aching. "What if it comes back?"
Lucien's lips pressed into a hard line. "It will." His voice was absolute. "And next time, it won't hesitate."
A silence stretched between them, thick with everything unsaid. The faint flicker of candlelight caught on the hard lines of his face, softening them, making him look almost human—almost vulnerable.
Zaria's chest tightened. Against all reason, against all the fear, she felt it again—that pull. That dangerous tether. The way her body leaned toward his, the way her breath synced with the rise and fall of his chest.
Lucien shifted, too close now, his golden eyes locked on hers. His hand hovered just inches from her cheek, trembling as if he fought himself.
"Zaria…" His voice was a whisper of thunder.
Her lips parted, her heart slamming against her ribs.
But before she could answer, a violent crash echoed from deeper in the manor. Wood splintering. Glass shattering.
Lucien stiffened, his eyes snapping toward the sound. He was on his feet in a breath, his entire body coiled like a predator ready to strike.
"They've breached the east wing." His voice was sharp now, urgent.
Zaria scrambled to her feet, clutching the wall for balance. "Who—what's in the east wing?"
Lucien glanced at her once, his golden eyes fierce with something that wasn't just anger. It was fear.
"Not what. Who."
Another crash split the silence. The manor seemed to shudder with it.
Lucien growled low, already moving down the hall. Over his shoulder, he barked one last command:
"Stay here. No matter what happens."
But Zaria knew—she couldn't stay. Not when everything inside her screamed that whatever waited in the east wing was far more dangerous than shadows.
And somehow, it was already coming for her.