Panic, pure and primal, overrode every other instinct. I launched myself from the wall, a wildcat defending her cub, and threw myself in his path. I had no weapon, no strength that could match his, but I was a wall of flesh and bone between him and my child.
"I said stay back!" I shoved at his chest, an act of utter futility. It was like trying to move a mountain. His coat was cold and unyielding under my palms, the body beneath it unnaturally still. He didn't even flinch.
He simply looked down at me, his silver eyes finally focusing on my face. The proximity was dizzying. I could smell him now—the scent of winter air, expensive wool, and that unique, indescribable fragrance that was just Rhyian. It was the scent of my past, of tangled sheets and whispered secrets, and it made my stomach twist with a nauseating mix of hatred and memory.
"Get out of my way, Carys," he said. His voice was dangerously quiet, a tightly controlled rumble that promised devastation if unleashed.
"No," I gasped, planting my feet. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to send your monsters and then play the hero. You have no rights here. Not anymore. You gave them up."
"I gave up nothing," he snarled, his fingers suddenly encircling my upper arm. His grip was cold steel, not bruising, but inescapable. He moved me aside as if I weighed nothing at all, depositing me a few feet away with a terrifying lack of effort. "I am correcting a mistake. Seven years of mistakes."
My throat closed with rage.
"The only mistake was me ever believing a single word that came out of your mouth! He is not an 'asset' for you to 'retrieve,' Rhyian! He is my son!"
"He is my son!" The words exploded from him, a raw, ragged sound that silenced me completely. The Sovereign was gone. This was the man, stripped bare, his voice laced with an agony that mirrored my own. His chest rose and fell, his control finally cracking. "He has my blood. My... eyes."
His gaze flickered to my face, then back to the door, a dawning horror and wonder warring in his expression. It was that look, that unguarded moment of raw emotion, that was my undoing. Because as much as I hated him, I recognized the look of a parent seeing their child for the first time.
He took another step toward the door. Behind it, Rowan's sobs had quieted into silent, fearful trembling. He was listening.
"Rowan," I called out, my voice shaking. "Honey, it's okay. Stay in your room. Lock your door."
But it was too late. The small, white door creaked open a few inches. A tiny face, framed by a mess of dark hair, peered out. And a pair of wide, luminous silver eyes—a perfect, miniature replica of the monster's standing in my shop—stared out at us.
Rowan looked at the carnage, at the dead bodies, at my bruised neck, and then his gaze landed on Rhyian. He didn't look scared of him. He looked... curious.
Rhyian froze. Every muscle in his body went rigid. I could almost feel the cataclysmic shock that ran through his ancient frame. He was seeing his own face, his own immortal lineage, reflected in the impossibly fragile features of a six-year-old boy. The prophecy he had run from, the child he had ordered erased, was standing right there. Alive. Real.
He dropped to one knee.
The movement was so unexpected it startled me. The Sovereign of Cinderfall, the creature who bowed to no one, was kneeling on the floor of my ruined shop, bringing himself down to a child's eye level.
"Hello," Rhyian said, and his voice was completely changed. All the ice, all the fury, was gone. It was soft, hesitant, and utterly wrecked. He held his hands out, palms open, a gesture of peace. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Rowan just stared, his thumb in his mouth.
"Rowan, get back in your room, now!" I commanded, my voice sharper than I intended.
Rhyian didn't even look at me. His entire universe had collapsed to the small boy in the doorway.
"My name is Rhyian," he said, his voice thick with unshed emotion. "What's yours?"
Rowan glanced at me, his silver eyes asking for permission. I gave a sharp, almost imperceptible shake of my head. He turned back to Rhyian and remained silent, a loyal, brave soldier.
A muscle feathered in Rhyian's jaw. He rose slowly to his full height, the moment broken. The mask of the Sovereign began to slide back into place, but the cracks remained. He turned to me, his expression hardening into grim resolve.
"This ends now," he stated, his voice flat and absolute. "My enemies know he exists. This hovel you call a home is compromised. Your pathetic attempts at security are meaningless. You are not safe here."
"We were safe until you brought them here!" I shot back.
"They would have found you eventually. I was trying to get to you first. This changes nothing, except the timeline." He ran a hand over his face, a rare gesture of weariness that I remembered all too well. "Pack a bag. For you and the boy. You have five minutes."
I stared at him, incredulous.
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
"This is not a negotiation, Carys," he said, his eyes turning cold again. "Do you think I'm asking? I let you live your life in this charade of freedom because I thought you were alone. I was wrong. The game is over. He is my son, my heir. He will be protected. And you, as his mother, will be protected with him." He took a step closer, his shadow falling over me. "You and Rowan are coming with me to The Obsidian Gate. Tonight. And you will not leave again until I decide it is safe."
The words hung in the air, a death sentence to the life I had built, the freedom I had bled for. He wasn't asking me to be his lover. He wasn't begging for forgiveness. He was claiming us. He was claiming his son.
My shop was destroyed. My secret was out. My greatest enemy was standing in front of me, declaring himself my protector.
And outside, in the rain-slicked streets of Cinderfall, I knew more monsters were stirring. My little world hadn't just been breached. It had been swallowed whole.