The night wind tasted like iron.
Amaya didn't know how she could taste it, didn't know why every breath felt sharpened and electric, but her senses were burning again. She felt alive and overheated at the same time—like a storm trapped in skin.
Calix walked beside her without speaking, his steps too quiet for a creature his size. The White Tiger King could cross entire mountains with a single leap, yet here he was, slowing his pace so he didn't leave her behind.
He pretended he wasn't doing it.
She pretended she didn't notice.
They were both bad at pretending.
The forest around them pulsed with a glow she had never seen before. Blue fireflies drifted through the branches like tiny lanterns, humming with magic. The air smelled of cold earth and something deep, ancient—something that made the hairs on Amaya's arms stand up.
"Keep close," Calix said. His voice was calm, but she heard the tension underneath.
Her heart stuttered.
"I am close," she murmured.
