Page 20 of Unveiled

“They are scouts,” Xiathen whispered. “Shadows given hunger and sentience. They do not feed on flesh. They feed on potential. On power. On the spark of a marked soul.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “It knew who I am? And what do you mean, a marked soul?”

“No,” Xiathen corrected gently. “It knew what you are. We still must wait for the Triarc to define it, but I feel it in my bones that you are something special to the Council.”

Connor growled under his breath, hands curling into fists. He glared at Adrian. “And you didn’t think to mention there were shadow-things roaming around sooner, threatening you?”

Adrian’s lips twitched in irritation. “I’m mentioning it now, aren’t I? And forgive me, but I was somewhat occupied trying not to get taken or whatever by a sentient smudge.”

Xiathen stepped forward, his robes whispering across stone. “Adrian, did it speak to you?”

Adrian hesitated. Connor’s breath hitched. “Adrian.”

“It didn’t speak,” Adrian said, his voice thin. “But it made a sound. Like static.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “And I felt something. A pull. Not physical, but here.” He pressed two fingers against the hollow at the base of his throat. “As if it recognised me.”

Xiathen’s eyes filled with dread. “Then the Council is already searching.”

A heavy, choking silence fell over them. Adrian’s breathing hitched. “You’re telling me that thing was sent for me?”

“Yes,” Xiathen breathed. “Sent to confirm you still exist. For whatever purpose they need you for. Once they taste it,” he shook his head, “more will come.”

Connor stepped in front of Adrian, instinctive and fierce. “Not on my land, they won’t.”

Adrian blinked at him, startled.

Xiathen studied the two of them with a frown, as though seeing something new take shape. “Valours,” he whispered, “your bond is awakening faster than I feared.”

Connor didn’t care about bonds or prophecy. Not in that moment. His gaze stayed locked on Adrian’s.

“Next time it shows up,” Connor said, his voice low and lethal, “it won’t sniff you. It’ll choke on its own shadow before it gets near you.”

Adrian exhaled shakily, a breath almost like relief. “And here I thought Scotsmen were meant to be calm.”

Connor’s mouth twitched. “You’re mistaking us for the English.”

Xiathen cleared his throat gently. “We must focus. If the Nightwrought has found Adrian once, it will find him again. And if it does, it will not come alone.”

Adrian’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Then what do we do?”

Xiathen looked between him, his expression grave. “You prepare,” he said softly. “Because the Council has begun its hunt. And you two—whether you wished it or not—are now the brightest flames in the valley.”

Connor’s chest tightened and he felt it then. How, he didn’t know. But somewhere far beyond the walls of the Athenaeum, the wind had shifted. Soft at first, then with the faintest undercurrent of static.

He had no idea what that meant.

Chapter Seven

Connor

After the revelations of the last few days, he needed a run. His wolf needed to smell the honest earth, touch what was real, and feed off the energy of the land. The current mumbo jumbo scenario he was embroiled in needed to be replaced by something he understood. Something tangible and normal.

Behind him, the Brannigan clan gathered in a loose half-circle near the rise, boots crunching over gravel and damp earth. They’d walked out from the castle in twos and threes, quiet, as if instinct had told them this wasn’t a day for chatter.

Alicia had wanted to come. Connor had crouched, touched his forehead to hers, and told her not this time. Not until she was older. Not until she could keep up. Not until she could understand what it meant to run with teeth and hunger and joy all braided together. She’d pouted, then hugged him hard around the neck as if she could anchor him with her small arms.

Now, with the wind in his face and the scent of peat and rain on the air, Connor felt that hug like a phantom weight. A reminder. A responsibility.

Fraser came up beside him, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his cigarette unlit for once. His scar caught the flat light, making him look even more carved, more weathered.