The man's golden eyes burned like dying stars, hollow yet endless.
Zyra's fingers twitched at her sides, fire flickering between them. She didn't know who he was, didn't know what he wanted, but one thing was clear—Kieran feared him.
And that terrified her more than the Forsaken.
The tension between them stretched like a blade, poised to cut.
Then—the man smiled.
"Aren't you going to introduce me?" His voice was smooth, edged with something dangerous.
Kieran's muscles were coiled, his shadows a writhing mass barely held at bay. "Leave."
The stranger sighed, tilting his head as if Kieran had disappointed him. "Still pretending, I see."
He took a slow step forward.
And the world shuddered.
Zyra's breath hitched. It wasn't magic. Not in the way she had ever felt before. This was deeper, woven into the fabric of reality itself.
Kieran's shadows lashed out—faster than thought.
But just like before, they vanished before touching him.
The man sighed, almost bored. "You should know better by now."
Kieran's jaw clenched. "And you should be dead."
The man's golden eyes gleamed. "Should be."
A flicker of movement—too fast to follow.
One second, he was standing before them. The next—he was behind Kieran.
Kieran spun, but it was too late.
The man's fingers brushed against Kieran's chest, and suddenly—
Kieran crumpled to his knees.
Zyra reacted instantly, fire roaring to life in her palm. But before she could strike, the golden-eyed man turned to her.
His voice was soft, almost gentle.
"You don't want to do that, little fire."
Zyra ignored the warning.
She threw the flames.
They never reached him.
Instead, the fire fizzled out, extinguished as though it had never existed.
Her stomach dropped.
Kieran was gasping for breath, his hand clutching his chest as if something was being ripped from him.
The man knelt beside him, voice almost amused. "How long has it been, Kieran?"
Kieran didn't answer.
But Zyra saw the look in his eyes—raw, unguarded.
And then she knew.
This wasn't an enemy.
This was someone from Kieran's past.
---
The Truth Unveiled
The stranger's fingers pressed lightly to Kieran's throat. Not threatening—but knowing.
"You thought you could hide forever, didn't you?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "You thought the bond would keep them from finding you?"
Kieran's hands shook.
Zyra had never seen him like this.
The Kieran she knew—the one wrapped in darkness and shadows—never faltered.
But right now?
He looked like a man drowning.
Zyra's fire flared again. "Get away from him."
The golden-eyed man finally looked at her, his gaze sweeping over her slowly. Then, after a moment—he laughed.
A soft, knowing chuckle.
"Oh," he mused. "You don't know, do you?"
Zyra's pulse thundered. "Know what?"
The stranger smirked, eyes flashing with something ancient and amused.
Then he whispered—
"You're the reason he's still alive."
Zyra stilled.
The words hit her harder than a blade.
"What—?"
The man finally pulled away from Kieran, watching as he slumped forward, panting.
He straightened, dusting off his coat as if this had all been a simple conversation. "How much has he told you?"
Zyra clenched her fists. "Told me what?"
The man shook his head, almost pitying. "Ah. So nothing."
He turned his back to her, gazing toward the rift, golden eyes glowing in the dark. "The bond was supposed to break when he fell."
Zyra's heart pounded.
Bond.
She knew what he meant.
Fated mates.
Her mind reeled. The magic between them had always been overwhelming, suffocating, unexplainable. She had assumed it was simply the force of their connection.
But this stranger…
He was saying it was more.
That Kieran was supposed to be dead.
And their bond had somehow stopped it.
Zyra refused to believe it. "You're lying."
The man didn't turn.
But his words cut like a blade.
"Ask him yourself."
Zyra's throat tightened.
Slowly, she looked at Kieran.
But he wouldn't meet her eyes.
---
The Rift's Warning
The golden-eyed man exhaled, looking at the rift. "It's unstable."
Zyra forced herself to focus. "And?"
His expression shifted.
For the first time since they met, his voice was serious.
"If you don't close it now, there won't be a city left to save."
Zyra's blood turned to ice.
She knew it was bad.
But the urgency in his voice made it clear—it was worse.
Kieran finally pushed himself to his feet, his voice hoarse. "Why do you care?"
The man's golden eyes flicked to him.
Then, after a pause—"Because I'm not the only one who found you."
Zyra's stomach plummeted.
The shadows around the rift moved.
Not like the Forsaken.
Not like anything she had ever seen.
Something else was coming.
Something worse.
The golden-eyed man's smirk returned. "I'd hurry if I were you."
Then—before they could react—
He was gone.
Vanished into the dark.
Kieran swore violently.
Zyra exhaled sharply, trying to still her racing heart.
She turned to Kieran. "Start talking. Now."
But before he could answer—
The rift erupted.
---