Page 83 of Unveiled

Adrian snorted, a sound that might have been amusement. “Worse than a child?”

“Because I worry more for you.”

Silence. A beat. Two.

Adrian’s voice dropped low. “You shouldn’t.”

“You can tell me that when this is over.”

“If we survive, you can lecture me as much as you like.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

Something flickered behind Adrian’s eyes. It seemed like warmth or relief. But it vanished the moment a shriek ripped through the trees.

A Nightwrought.

They froze. The cry came again. High and metallic, like rusted hinges screaming from the inside of bone. Adrian’s breath hitched. Connor stepped in front of him, his teeth bared.

Two shadows peeled off a nearby tree. Then three. Then five. Their movements were jerky, twitching like marionettes pulled by too many strings. Blank white eyes turned toward Adrian.

Connor stepped forward, his voice a low snarl. “Back. Off.”

The creatures halted. Then they bowed.

Connor’s blood ran cold. Max muttered something under his breath and Fraser placed a hand on his arm. “Patience now,” he murmured. “Let them do their jobs.”

“They bow only to the Council,” Adrian whispered.

“Or to the Marked,” Connor said softly.

Adrian shook his head violently. “Don’t say that. Don’t make me responsible for them.”

“You’re not responsible for anything except staying alive,” Connor snapped.

But Adrian wasn’t listening. He was staring at the creatures with a look Connor had never seen on him before. He wore the look of horror. And recognition.

“They know me,” Adrian breathed. “Connor, they know me.”

Connor didn’t let him linger. He grabbed Adrian’s hand and hauled him forward, ignoring the way Adrian stiffened at the contact. “No more looking,” Connor growled. “Eyes ahead.”

By the time they reached the Rift Clearing, the temperature had dropped even further. Connor could see his breath and Adrian’s. The mist curled up in unnatural spirals, like something was pulling the air toward the sky. The clearing itself glowed faintly. Not like fire, not like moonlight, more like a wound. Blue-green light bled up through cracks in the earth, spreading in thin veins that hummed beneath their feet. The air tasted of metal and storm.

Connor felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. “Adrian.”

“I see it.”

“What is it?”

Adrian’s face hardened. “The beginning.”

Connor didn’t like the sound of that. “Of what?”

But Adrian didn’t answer. Because the moment they stepped fully into the clearing, the light pulsed deep and resonant, like a heartbeat too large to belong to anything mortal. A voice slithered across the ground.

Marked.

Adrian gasped, stepping back.