One heartbeat, she was a pale streak against the black, the next she was gone, devoured by the mist clinging to the cliffs like old ghosts. The roar of the river rose up, cold and merciless, and Keal's stomach clenched with a dread so sharp it almost buckled his knees.
But he didn't have time to watch her fall.
The alpha lunged again, claws flashing in the dim light. Keal twisted just in time, the creature's strike slicing air where his head had been. His own claws raked deep into its shoulder, but the flesh gave too easily — soft, rotting beneath the surface. Black blood hissed when it hit the stone, the stench sharp enough to burn his throat.
"You can't keep her," the alpha rasped, grinning through broken teeth. "She belongs to the deep."
Keal slammed his weight into it, driving the alpha back into the cave wall with a crack of stone. Dust rained down, mixing with the slick blood underfoot. "She belongs to no one."
The alpha laughed low, guttural, like rock grinding against rock. "Spoken like someone who hasn't seen the end."
Keal didn't waste more words. He struck hard, aiming for the throat, but the alpha's form shimmered and twisted. Its flesh dissolved into the mist, reforming behind him with inhuman speed. Claws tore down his back, searing fire through muscle.
He roared, spinning, and caught the alpha's arm in his jaws, biting down until bone cracked. The creature's shriek rattled the air. But Keal's chest was heaving, his limbs heavy. The fight was costing him precious seconds seconds Lyra didn't have.
Because below, the river had claimed her.
She hit the water like a stone, the cold an instant knife through her ribs. The current seized her, dragging her down before she could take a breath. She fought to reach the surface, but the darkness pressed from all sides, swallowing her kicks and tearing the air from her lungs.
The world became a rush of black water and muted thunder.
Then hands.
No… not hands. Too long. Too many joints. The touch was cold but deliberate, sliding around her waist and pulling her deeper. She thrashed, panic flooding her veins, but the grip was unshakable.
The river narrowed into a tunnel. Her shoulder scraped stone, the sound lost in the roar of the current. Something about the movement smooth, controlled told her this wasn't drowning.
It was being taken.
The water around her stilled, and her feet found slick stone. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed onto a flat shelf, coughing river water, gasping like each breath might be the last.
It was then she saw the eyes.
Not two. Not even four. Dozens. Tiny and far apart, all glowing a dim silver, circling her in the dark. They blinked at different times, giving the eerie impression of a living constellation.
"You are early," a voice said deep, fluid, like water spilling over stone.
Her breath hitched. "What… what are you?"
The eyes shifted, narrowing. The shape moved closer, and though the body stayed hidden in shadow, she caught the outline tall, impossibly thin, the limbs bending in ways that weren't made for walking.
"The question is not what I am, little moonblood," it said. "But what you are about to become."
She wanted to move away, but her body was still too heavy from the river. "I didn't come here by choice."
The voice almost chuckled. "The river chooses. It always chooses."
Far above, Keal's claws met the alpha's chest again, tearing through sinew. But for every blow he landed, his own wounds deepened. Blood soaked into the stone beneath his boots, and his breath came ragged.
The alpha's grin widened, its teeth jagged and uneven. "She is gone to the dark below. You will not follow. You cannot."
Keal snarled and shoved the creature back toward the cliff's edge. "Watch me."
He feinted left, then lunged low, driving his shoulder into the alpha's ribs hard enough to lift it off the ground. For a moment, they teetered at the edge.
Then the alpha let go not of the fight, but of the form it wore. Its body unraveled into mist, streaming upward into the cold night air, leaving only the echo of its voice:
"We'll meet you below."
Keal staggered to the edge, looking down into the swirling black. The river's voice was a hollow whisper from this height, but he could feel it, the pull of something ancient and dangerous beneath the cliffs.
And he knew. If he jumped now, he might never come back. But if he didn't, Lyra wouldn't either.
Below, the creature in the dark stepped closer to her. Its many eyes dimmed until only two remained, silver and steady.
"The Moonbound think they can hold you," it murmured. "The shadowborn think they can break you. Both are wrong."
Lyra's voice trembled. "Then what are you going to do with me?"
It crouched low, bringing its head near hers. "Not do, little moonblood. Teach."
Somewhere far above, Keal's howl split the night a sound of grief, of rage, and of a promise made in blood.
And in the darkness of the deep, the creature smiled.