Chapter 4 CHAPTER FOUR

The morning sun broke over the horizon like a fresh wound, spilling streaks of pale gold and bruised violet across the Flatlands. Cold morning dew clung to the hem of my travel-worn skirts, heavy and freezing against my ankles as I walked away from the village.

I didn't turn around. I couldn't. If I looked back at the thatched cottage where my mother was resting, my courage would shatter into a thousand pieces.

Elder Vesper had stood at the edge of the village fields in silence, her arms crossed over her green robes, watching my departure with that heavy, unreadable sorrow in her eyes. I had accepted my fate. House Sandor had protected me for twenty-seven years; now it was my turn to protect them.

Step after agonizing step, I approached the foothills where the flat grass gave way to sharp, jagged incline. The boundary line of the Accord wasn't marked by a fence or a wall, but by the undeniable shift in magic.

The moment my boots crossed into the lower pass of the Sky Mountains, the air thinned, biting cold and rich with the heavy, ancient pulse of dragon territory.

My skin prickled with goosebumps.

He was already waiting.

He stood atop a moss-covered boulder overlooking the path, silhouetted against the rising sun like a shadow carved from stone. He wore the same dark leather armor, his long, dark hair blowing slightly in the mountain wind. The morning light caught the edges of his broad shoulders, casting him in a halo of golden fire.

The moment I stepped across the threshold, his head snapped in my direction. Those striking golden eyes, slit-pupiled and lethal, locked onto mine with an intensity that made the breath catch in my throat. The heavy, heady scent of cedar, crushed leaves, and electrical ozone swept down the pass, wrapping around me like an invisible hand.

He didn't greet me. He didn't ask about my mother. He simply stepped off the boulder, landing on the gravel below without making a sound.

"You returned," he said softly, his voice a low, reverberating rumble that sent a tremor straight down my spine.

"I keep my promises," I replied, forcing my chin up despite the cold sweat breaking out across the back of my neck. "My mother is resting. The cure worked. Now... fulfill your end of the deal. Leave my village in peace."

“Since we are here, you should know me as Tirian.”

I turned the name over in my head, finding I liked the way it rolled off his tongue, but I shook my head.

Tirian didn't answer immediately. He took a slow, deliberate step toward me, his gaze sweeping over my bruised face, my dark under-eye circles, and the sheer exhaustion weighing down my shoulders. For a fraction of a second, something hot and unreadable flashed across his features, his jaw tightening so hard a muscle twitched beneath his skin.

Then, a dark, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Your village is safe, witch," he growled low, the air around him shimmering with a subtle, rising heat. "But you are not."

I took an instinctive step backward. "What?"

"You didn't think I was going to walk you up this mountain like a guest taking a stroll through a garden, did you?" Tirian’s golden eyes flared bright, the pupils dilating into sharp black needles.

The ambient plummeted, making my ears pop as his aura flared outwards in a terrifying display of pure power. "A witch inside the Sky Mountains must prove she has the instinct to survive. Show me what you're made of, Sandor."

My heart gave a violent leap into my throat. "What are you talking about—"

"Run," he commanded, his voice dropping into a guttural, predatory purr.

"What?"

"Run!" he roared, the sound echoing off the cliff walls like a crack of thunder.

Before I could even process the absurdity of the order, he launched himself forward.

Panic, absolute and blinding, took control of my limbs. I spun on my heel and bolted.

I didn't think. I didn't plan a route. I just ran, my boots slamming against the uneven trail as terror surged through my veins like liquid fire. Behind me, the heavy, rhythmic crunch of gravel under his boots sounded impossibly fast, impossibly close. He wasn't just walking—he was hunting me.

"Faster, witch!" his voice boomed from somewhere directly behind my left shoulder, sounding completely unbothered by the steep incline. "Is this the best House Sandor can offer?"

"Leave me alone!" I gasped out, my lungs screaming as the icy mountain air burned through my throat.

I cast a quick, desperate glance over my shoulder and nearly shrieked. Tirian was only ten paces behind me, moving with a terrifying, fluid speed that defied his massive frame. A cruel, exhilarated grin stretched across his chiseled face, his golden eyes locked on me like a hawk tracking prey. He wasn't even out of breath. He was enjoying this.

I tore my eyes away and pushed my aching legs faster, veering wildly off the main trail and plunging blindly into the thick, overgrown pine forest that flanked the lower ridge. Twigs and sharp needles whipped across my face, stinging my cheeks and tearing at my hair, but I didn't care. I needed to break line of sight. I needed to use magic, to weave a concealment ward, to do something—

My foot hit nothing.

I didn't even have time to gasp. The ground beneath the carpet of pine needles gave way instantly, revealing a massive, concealed pit dug deep into the mountain slope.

"Whoa—!"

I tumbled headfirst into the abyss, air rushing past my ears as gravity ripped me downward. The jagged earth walls of the pit blurred into a dark, terrifying smear. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the bone-shattering impact against the rocks at the bottom—

Two massive, warm arms caught me mid-air.

The impact slammed against my ribs, knocking every last drop of oxygen from my lungs, but the brutal crash onto stone never came. Instead, I was pulled flush against a broad, rock-hard chest, wrapped in a grip so powerful it felt like iron bands.

I gasped, my hands instinctively flying out to clutch at dark, heavy leather armor. The scent of rain, wild pine, and hot steel flooded my nose—completely different from Tirian's cedar and ozone.

I opened my eyes, chest heaving frantically, my heart hammering against my ribs like a caged animal.

Looking down at me was a pair of bright, mischievous amber eyes, framed by sharp, handsome features and dark, rumpled hair that fell messily over a tanned brow. A slow, wickedly handsome grin spread across his face, dimpling his cheek in a way that looked far too charming for a monster who had just caught me in a hole.

He held me effortlessly against his chest, his arms cradling me like I weighed nothing at all, his amber eyes dancing with absolute delight as he took in my disheveled hair, wide eyes, and gasping mouth.

"Well, well," the dragon chuckled, his deep voice carrying a rich, melodic humor that sent a strange, unexpected ripple through my chest. "I set this trap for game... but I have to say, I don't mind a beautiful witch falling into my arms."

I froze, my face flushing scarlet beneath the dirt caked on my skin. "Let go of me!"

"Let you go?" He tilted his head, his grin widening into something dangerously playful as his eyes swept slowly down my neck and back up to my lips. "In a pit six feet deep? You'd just bruise those pretty knees, witchling. Besides... I found you first."

Before I could summon a burst of witchfire to blast him in the face, a dark, suffocating shadow fell over the mouth of the pit above us.

The temperature in the air plunged from cool forest mist to suffocating, oppressive heat in less than a second. The laughter in the amber-eyed dragon's expression instantly flickered, replaced by a tense, alert focus.

I looked up.

Standing at the edge of the pit, looking down at us with a face twisted into a mask of pure, murderous rage, was Tirian. His golden eyes were no longer just glowing—they were ablaze with raw, lethal fury, small tendrils of dark smoke curling slowly from his nostrils and spilling between his bared teeth.

"Get your hands off her, Kylo," Tirian growled, the low, terrifying sound rattling the earth beneath our feet. "Before I tear them off your body."