Owain moved first.
Not with rage, not with fear—but with the controlled stillness of a predator prepping for a kill.
He placed one hand on my shoulder, guiding me just enough behind him that I wasn't exposed but not so far that I couldn't see what was happening outside the cave.
I didn't even get the chance to ask if he was okay.
A blast of cold air rushed in from the cave entrance, swirling frost in spirals across the stone ground. The temperature dropped instantly—I could see my breath.
Yllas appeared in the opening like a specter.
Tall. Barefoot. Bare-chested. White-haired, frost clinging to the strands like a crown. His eyes were molten gold, glowing bright enough to illuminate the whole cave.
He wasn't fully human, not even close. Frost scaled his forearms. His skin radiated a cold that made the walls crack.
Owain growled low in his throat.
Gerrin stepped lightly beside the dragon, elegant even in the cramped cave entrance. His silver-blonde hair glowed faintly in the dim light, and glowing arcane patterns slid across his collarbone and neck, reacting to the tension in the air.
Helion arrived last, silent as ever, leaning against the cave wall like he belonged there.
Four of them. Four powerful males blocking the only exit.
And me. One human girl who couldn't even outrun a squirrel right now.
Owain's voice dropped to a warning growl. "You're too close to my territory, dragon."
Yllas didn't look at him.
He looked at me.
I felt the intensity of it like a physical pressure, the weight of his attention heavy enough that my chest tightened.
When he spoke, the words were quiet but carried a burning authority.
"Human."
My spine straightened instinctively.
Owain stepped between us, blocking Yllas's view. "You don't get to call her like that."
"Move," Yllas replied sharply.
"No."
The dragon's jaw tightened. Frost cracked along his shoulders, sliding down his arms. "You are playing with forces you don't understand, wolf."
Owain bared his teeth. "Then explain. What does she have to do with you?"
"Everything."
That single word sent chills down my back.
Gerrin crossed his arms, tone bored but eyes sharp. "You're being dramatic."
"I am being factual," Yllas countered.
Helion raised a brow. "Both can be true."
None of them were looking at each other. All of their attention was weighted on the same point.
Me.
I forced myself to stand straighter and found my voice. "Someone, please, explain what the hell is going on."
Yllas's gaze snapped to mine again. There was something dangerous in his eyes—like he could tear apart the mountain if it meant getting answers.
"You are not supposed to exist."
Owain's hand tightened on my shoulder. "We already established that."
"Not like this," Yllas corrected. "Not… unbound."
"Unbound?" I asked.
Gerrin sighed, stepping forward slightly. "Humans in this world were sealed away. Erased. Removed from all magic, all instinct, all realms."
"We know," I said. "Owain explained it… vaguely."
"No," Yllas said coldly. "He told you the easy part. The sanitized version."
Owain shot him a glare but didn't interrupt.
Yllas's eyes softened—barely—when he looked at me.
"Humans weren't just sealed. They were severed. Their existence was cut from our world by the First Human Queen. She used her own blood to create the barrier."
"Why?" I asked quietly.
"So the Beast King couldn't claim you," Gerrin answered. "Humans were his obsession."
"His downfall," Helion added.
Yllas's voice lowered. "And now, somehow, you slipped through the seal. You've returned—and every creature in this world felt it."
My heart hammered hard in my chest. "But why am I such a big deal?"
Yllas stared at me with a focus that made my skin heat and freeze all at once.
"Because you are the first human whose body, scent, and aura have touched Aetheryon in six hundred years. Instinct doesn't know what to do with you. Magic doesn't know what to do with you." He stepped closer, frost trailing behind him. "Even time bends around you."
"Time—what?"
Gerrin cut in, frustrated. "Dragons always exaggerate."
"I do not exaggerate," Yllas snapped. "Her presence twisted the laylines. I felt it across kingdoms."
Owain muttered under his breath, "You're not the only one."
"And what would a pup know about laylines?" Yllas sneered.
Owain shoved him.
The dragon didn't budge.
"Enough," I said sharply before they could start killing each other again. "Can one of you please explain what this means for me? Am I in danger? Am I cursed? Am I going to explode? Am I—"
"You are mine."
That was Yllas.
And Owain pushed him so hard frost scattered like snow around us.
"Shut your fucking mouth," Owain snarled. "She doesn't belong to anyone."
"You think you can protect her?" Yllas growled. "You cannot even protect your own pack."
Owain lunged, half-shifting, claws sprouting for a fight.
He would've ripped into Yllas if Helion and Gerrin hadn't stepped between them—Helion grabbing Owain's arm, Gerrin slamming magic into the air like a wall.
The cave shuddered.
I covered my ears as a burst of sound rang through the stone.
"ENOUGH!" Gerrin shouted.
Magic crackled around his fingertips, glowing bright. His eyes were sharp, irritated, and unamused.
"You're all behaving like feral cubs. We can't fight here. The mountain will collapse."
Helion smirked. "No need to break the cave. We can tear each other apart later."
Owain growled again. "Stay out of it, leopard."
Helion shrugged. "Unlikely."
Gerrin shifted his gaze to me.
"You wanted an explanation. Here it is."
He stepped closer—slow, deliberate. Enough for me to see the intricate silver markings along the side of his neck.
"You are rare. Your presence destabilizes our instincts. Wolves become territorial. Dragons become possessive. Leopards become predatory. Elves become reactive."
"Reactive?" I echoed.
He nodded. "My magic is fluctuating because of you. Unbalanced. Unpredictable."
He lifted his hand slightly—and I watched mana shimmer above his palm like fluid light.
"When I get near you, the spell destabilizes."
The magic sparked—crackling—before sputtering out completely.
"That is what humans do," Gerrin said calmly. "You disrupt us."
"That sounds bad."
"Not bad," Helion murmured, leaning casually against the cave wall. "Just unusual. And unusual things get hunted."
I felt my stomach drop. "Hunted. You mean—like what happened in the forest?"
Yllas's eyes narrowed. "That was merely the beginning."
Owain took a step closer to me, his body tense. "They won't stop."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because you smell like nothing," Owain said quietly. "They can't categorize you. Their instincts see you as a blank slate."
"Blank slate," I repeated. "Meaning…?"
"Meaning," Helion said softly from my right, "every instinct says you could be prey, a threat, or a mate."
"Most say mate," Gerrin muttered.
Yllas's jaw flexed. "Dragons say fate."
Owain scoffed. "Dragons don't believe in fate."
"We believe in inevitability," Yllas said.
"How is that different?" I asked.
Yllas's eyes sharpened with a heat that didn't match his frost. "One can be resisted. The other cannot."
Owain shoved him again. "Back off."
The dragon didn't move, didn't blink—he just stared at me like I was the brightest star he'd ever seen.
"Do not pretend you don't feel it, wolf," Yllas murmured. "Every beast in this realm felt the moment she arrived."
Owain's jaw clenched.
Gerrin's markings pulsed brighter.
Helion's pupils narrowed slightly.
I understood the implication completely:
They all felt something about me.
Not just attraction. Not just curiosity. Something deeper. Instinctive.
Something I couldn't understand.
I took a shaky step back. "Whatever you think this is, I don't want to be involved."
Yllas reacted first.
At the slightest backward movement, his wings burst from his back, frost cracking along the cave walls.
Owain's eyes flashed gold.
Gerrin's mana glowed bright.
Helion lifted his head, gaze shifting from casual to sharp.
"Do not retreat," Yllas said tightly.
Owain growled, "Leave her alone."
"She is destabilizing," Gerrin snapped. "If she panics, every instinct in this cave will spike."
"Then do not let her panic," Yllas retorted.
"How?!" I shouted.
The cave echoed with my voice.
All four froze.
The silence after was crushing.
I pressed my palms to my temples, trying to breathe. "I don't understand any of this. I didn't choose to be here. I didn't choose to be human. I didn't ask to trigger whatever instincts you have. I am just trying to not die today."
For a moment—just a moment—they stopped fighting.
Owain stepped closer first.
He knelt in front of me, lowering his gaze slightly, not in submission but in an attempt to calm me down.
"You won't die," he said softly. "Not with me."
Yllas's wings folded as he approached, slower, controlled. "Nor with me."
Gerrin's markings dimmed. "Nor with any of us."
Helion inclined his head. "Not unless you intend to."
That last phrase was so weirdly calm it almost made me laugh—hysterically—but I held the sound in.
Helion pushed off the wall, stepping lightly toward us. "We need to talk about the treaty."
Gerrin rolled his eyes. "Not this again."
"Yes," Yllas said sharply. "The treaty is relevant."
Owain stiffened. "No. Absolutely not."
"What treaty?" I demanded.
All four looked at me.
No one spoke for a moment.
Finally, Gerrin exhaled slowly. "The Quartet Treaty."
"Sounds like a board game," I muttered.
"It is not," Yllas said.
Helion stepped closer, his voice low and direct.
"It's a law written five hundred years ago. It states that if a single being triggers equal instinctual imbalance in multiple Highborn—wolves, dragons, elves, leopards, phoenix, and more—then that being cannot be claimed by one."
Owain growled. "She doesn't belong to any of us."
"No," Helion said calmly. "But she belongs to all of us."
My heart stopped.
"I'm sorry—run that back?"
Yllas said it in the simplest, most matter-of-fact way possible.
"The treaty states that if you belong to one, you belong to all."
I stared at him. Then at Owain. Then at Gerrin. Then at Helion.
"No," I said. "Absolutely not. I'm not some… shared… treaty-bound… thing."
"You misunderstand," Gerrin said quietly. "The treaty was written to protect the one at the center."
"Protect them from what?" I whispered.
Yllas's expression turned dark.
"From the Beast King."
Cold slid down my spine.
Owain straightened fully. "We need to move. Now."
Helion nodded. "Agreed."
Gerrin's tone sharpened. "She can't stay here."
Yllas finally looked away from me—to the cave entrance, where the faint sound of distant roars echoed again.
"The world is hunting her."
Owain stepped beside me, body tense, eyes sharp.
"We go to Fenr Vale now."
Gerrin shook his head. "No. She should be taken to Sylvarin. My magic reacts strongest to her—meaning I can stabilize her aura."
Yllas snarled. "She comes with me. I felt her arrival first. She is tied to the dragons."
Helion nudged a pebble with his foot, voice casual. "You're all wrong. She goes with the one she hasn't rejected yet."
They all looked at me.
Waiting.
Expecting.
Pressuring.
I swallowed.
Hard.
Owain extended a hand. "Choose me."
Yllas stepped forward. "Choose me."
Gerrin's voice lowered. "Choose wisely."
Helion smiled faintly. "Choose who you trust to survive the next hour."
My breath caught.
The cave grew unbearably silent.
I had to choose.
For my survival.
For my sanity.
For the chaos outside.
I licked my lips, voice almost caught in my chest.
"I… I choose—"
A blast of magic slammed into the cave.
The ground cracked. The ceiling shook. Stones fell from above.
Owain grabbed me. "GET DOWN!"
The entrance filled with blinding light.
A voice cut through the explosion—smooth, powerful, echoing with magic that made the air vibrate:
"Mine."
It wasn't Yllas. It wasn't Owain. It wasn't Helion.
It wasn't even Gerrin.
It was someone new.
And the chapter guide had spoken of this moment.
The Elf Interference.
The figure stepped inside, glowing with arcane power.
And everything went white.