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Sky.

My heart twisted. I knew with absolute certainty that this belonged to him. How the poor boy had managed to keep it hidden from the Vakra for so long—how it had ended up down here in the dark—was a miracle in itself.

I carefully wiped the heavy dust from the bear's worn face, tucked it securely into my satchel beside the carved sun, and turned back toward the main passage.

"Find what you were looking for, my lady?" Jarek asked quietly from the doorway, his hand resting on his spear as he scanned the corridor.

A small, weary smile touched my lips as I looked at the warrior. "I'm no lady, Jarek. Lyra is just fine with me."

Jarek blinked, a rare, subtle softening breaking through his stoic guard before he inclined his head. "As you wish, Lyra."

"Come on," I said, clutching my satchel tight against my side. "Let's go find Kaelen."

Chapter 74

Kaelen-Thul

The air in the deep crusts was stale and heavy, thick with the lingering stench of iron and burnt ash. My feet moved silently over the basalt floor as my vanguard scouts methodically swept the central chamber, flipping over fallen debris and ensuring every dead Vakra down here stayed dead.

As I reached the foot of the high stone platform, my golden eyes caught a familiar, sickening shape resting in the dust.

Geth’s severed head.

I picked up the heavy, horned skull by the hair, staring down at the lifeless, sneering face of the traitor who had helped tear our world apart. There was no pleasure in it, only the grim satisfaction of a threat ended.

I turned and tossed the heavy skull across the space to one of my vanguard warriors. "Bring this back to the Nest," I commanded, my voice a low growl echoing off the cavern walls. "Mount it at the boundary line. Let it be a warning to any who think our roots are weak."

"Understood, Huntmaster," the warrior acknowledged, catching it cleanly and securing it to his belt.

Leaving the platform behind, I turned my attention toward the narrow passageway where Sila had fled. When she tried to run, I hadn't hesitated—I had hurled both of my daggers straight into her back. I knew both blades had struck deep, and she had been bleeding profusely as she stumbled into the dark.

My nostrils flared as I caught her scent—the sharp, copper tang of her dried blood marking a heavy trail along the stone floor.

I set off down the passage, following the red smear into the dark.

"You walk too fast for a male with no one chasing him, Huntmaster."

The raspy, familiar voice cut through the cavern's quiet.

I spun around, my hand dropping to my broadsword before my brain caught up with the sound. Standing at the edge of the archway, breathing heavily as if he had run the entire length of the descent vents, was Toren.

He looked like he had clawed his way back from the underworld. His face was drawn, pale beneath his dark scales, but his golden eyes burned with the same stubborn fire that had made him my brother in arms since we were cubs. His right arm was wrapped tightly in thick, blue-stained weavers' healing cloth—a stark, hollow shape where half his hand and forearm should have been.

Yet, as I stared at him in stunned silence, Toren drew his broadsword with his left hand, spinning the heavy blade, although his movement wasn't quite as smooth as before.

"I wanted to check the perimeter myself," Toren grunted, a faint, cocky smirk touching his lips despite his exhaustion. "Did you really think I’d sit in the healers' hut drinking leaf-water while you had all the fun down here? I still have a duty to this clan, Kaelen. One good hand is more than enough to butcher a Vakra."

A sudden, breathless laugh broke from my chest. I stepped forward, closed the distance, and threw my arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hard, fierce embrace.

"You absolute skahn," I growled into his collarbone, using the ancient word for a reckless fool, my voice tight with relief as I gripped him tight. "You should be resting."

"And miss watching you hunt?" Toren wheezed, clapping his left hand firmly against my back before pulling away. He looked around the shadow-drenched chamber, his nostrils flaring. "Where is your mate?"

I paused, closing my eyes for a fraction of a second to focus on the deep, golden pulse throbbing at the back of my mind. Through our bond, I could feel her presence—warm, steady, and moving back toward me through the holding vents. I could smell the faint scent of crushed pine and rain clinging to her skin even through the sulfur.

"She is on her way back," I said softly, my chest relaxing slightly. "She went to check the holding cells."

"Good," Toren said, his expression hardening as he stepped up beside me, gesturing toward the trail of dried blood on the stone floor. "Let's finish this. Let's see the body of the female who tried to burn our home."