Page 85 of Unveiled

The Mouthpiece flickered.

As you wish.

The light surged. The trees bent inward. And the Council reached through the rend.

The world didn’t break all at once.

It split with a sound like a stone cracking under frost, a thin, hairline fracture of light tearing through the earth behind the Mouthpiece. The ground convulsed, shuddering under Connor’s boots. The rend widened. Adrian was struggling to resist, his muscles flexing as he fought against the pull, his face a grimace of defiance.

The light pouring out of the gap wasn’t natural. It wasn’t even close to it. It shimmered like oil and ice and starlight all at once, shifting colours too fast for the human eye to follow. Blue bled to violet, violet to sickly green, green to a white so bright it hurt to look at.

Connor’s wolf snarled violently, bristling. This shouldn’t exist. This wasn’t a doorway. It was a wound. And something on the other side wanted out.

The Mouthpiece’s form flickered—a skull of smoke stretched across a collapsing void—and its voice shattered through the clearing like splintered glass.

We shall have him. He is ours.

“I’m nobody’s fucking property,” Adrian gasped as he held on to Connor, their hands clasped around each other’s forearms tethered in an unbreakable chain. “You can piss the hell off.”

The Nightwrought circling the tree line bowed as one, their spindly limbs splaying like grotesque dancers greeting their monarch. Adrian’s breath caught in his throat, his entire body was shaking, the mark glowing beneath his shirt like a brand fresh off the fire.

“Connor,” he gasped, “they’re pulling—”

“I’ve got you,” Connor growled, tightening his grip around Adrian’s waist. “You’re not going anywhere.”

But he felt it. The tug. A horrible, invisible force hooking into Adrian’s body deeper. Into his spirit as well as his flesh.

Adrian gasped, his back arching against Connor’s hold. His fingers clamped around Connor’s coat. His knuckles blanched white. “I’m not sure how much longer I can fight them.” His eyes opened in wonder. “I can hear Irial. In my head. She’s trying to tell me something.”

“Stay with me,” Connor barked. The wind ripped the words from his mouth, swallowing them in the thunderous hum of the rend splitting wider.

The ground cracked again, a jagged line racing toward them like a lightning strike etched into soil. Light spewed upwards, searing the air. Connor dragged Adrian back, step by step, his boots slipping in the fractured earth.

Connor’s rage went white-hot. “Over my dead body,” he snarled at the rend. His hands thrummed, all heat and lightning, something powerful struggling to break free.

Use me, something thundered in his mind. Use your power to set him free. His wolf side snarled. I am more now than I ever was.

He held up his hands, staring at the purple flames that engulfed them. Steady flames, interspersed with silver motes that drifted through the fire.

What the fuck is this? And what the hell do I do with it?

A cold wind poured through the clearing, carrying a chorus of whispers, overlapping, layered, each voice unnatural in a different way.

Valour. Send him. Send the Marked.

Balance must be restored.

Adrian bent his head in desperation, his muscles taut with resistance. “Let. Me. Go,” he shouted.

Connor slammed his palm against Adrian’s cheek, forcing Adrian to look up. Adrian’s eyes widened when he saw what Connor’s hands held.

“Why are your hands glowing?”

Connor shook his head. “I haven’t figured that out yet. Now listen to me, Adrian Gauthier. You stay with me. Right here. Right now.” He pressed his forehead to Adrian’s, ignoring the heat of the mark searing through Adrian’s chest. “Do you hear me?”

Adrian shuddered against him. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”