He waited for her in the storm.
Not in shadow this time, but standing in plain sight beneath the black tether, its dark light washing over him like a crown.
Arielle's grip on Selene's hand tightened as they approached the shattered plaza where Draven stood. He didn't summon his puppets. He didn't raise a hand. He simply smiled, as if everything was already decided.
"You've felt it, haven't you?" he said, his voice low, intimate despite the storm. "The hunger. The hum. The way the weave clings to you like a drowning man to driftwood. You're not like them anymore, Arielle. You're like me."
Selene stepped forward, their needle raised. "She's nothing like you."
Draven's gaze slid to Selene, his grin widening. "No? She's already tasted the bonds. She's already taken. She could keep resisting, let the coven cut her open, or…" His eyes met Arielle's again, glowing violet. "She could join me. Not as my servant, but as my equal. Together, we could weave a new order. No more frayed bonds. No more weak covens. No more suffering."
The hum in Arielle's chest pulsed violently, her vision blurring at the edges. For the first time, Draven's words didn't sound entirely wrong.
Selene's voice cut through, sharp as a blade. "He'll hollow you out, Arielle. Just like he did everyone else."
Draven tilted his head, his grin softening into something almost tender. "Or I'll set you free."
The tether above split wider, shadows raining down in a slow, mesmerizing spiral. Arielle's breath caught as her fingers twitched, every thread around her vibrating, calling.
Two hands extended toward her — one silver, one shadow.
And for the first time, she didn't know which one felt more dangerous.