Chapter 41. The Thread Between

She didn’t remember drawing the second blade.

Not the moment her fingers curled around the hilt, nor when the motion carried her into a low stance between Nairon and the advancing shape. But the blade was in her hand now, warm from the bond etched into the steel, vibrating faintly against the air charged with something more than magic.

It was memory—dense, weighted, alive.

The man with no voice stepped aside, slow and reverent, not in deference to her, but to the creature behind him. As if it belonged here in a way neither of them did. As if this thing, made of bone-laced shadow and glyphs that moved like ash in wind, was not summoned—but born.

Nairon stirred behind her, a weak attempt at rising that failed before his knees fully straightened.

“Don’t,” she muttered, eyes still fixed on the beast.

“It’s not meant for you,” he whispered hoarsely.

“No,” she replied, steady. “But I’m meant for it.”

The beast tilted its head slightly, and f