Raithar, the god of air, stood invisible, floating effortlessly above the shimmering water below.
The celebration still buzzed around them—lights, laughter, music—but it was all background noise to him. His focus remained solely on her.
His grey eyes gleamed as he watched Thalina's form retreat, her movements stiff, her mind clearly spiraling with what she had just experienced.
Reign, walked beside her, speaking softly, trying to ease the tension in her shoulders.
Raithar barely blinked. He had seen it all.
The way her breath had hitched. The way she had clutched that tiny wolf cub as if it were her last tether to reality.
She was breaking. Slowly. But not yet enough.
Beside him, Xandor, his right-hand man, watched too. But unlike his master, he was restless.
"My lord," Xandor finally spoke, his voice measured yet laced with curiosity. "Why don't we just take her? Why go through all this trouble?"
Raithar barely spared him a glance.
Take her?
Force her?
