Elemental Urge

Kai:

Lucian’s retreating footsteps echoed like a slow metronome in the stone corridor—steady, self-satisfied, each one a small victory he didn’t bother to hide. He never looked back. He didn’t need to. The smug set of his shoulders said everything: I won.

Then I saw her.

Isadora.

She was a single splash of moonlight against the dark wall, head bowed, shoulders drawn in as if the weight of the entire academy rested there. Her lashes were damp, black streaks of shadow against her cheeks, and a tear caught the torchlight before it slid down her pale skin.

Something sharp lodged beneath my ribs. Rage. Worry. Something darker I refused to name.

“Isadora,” I said softly.

She flinched like a startled bird, her eyes, those bottomless, night-drenched eyes, snapping up to mine. The hallway was quiet enough to hear the crack in her breath.

I didn’t ask what Lucian had said. I didn’t need to. The taste of his malice still lingered in the air. I would deal with him later. Right now I just had to take care of her.

“Come with me.” My voice came out rougher than I intended. A command, not a request.

For a heartbeat she hesitated, as if weighing whether she could trust me. Then she slid her hand into mine. Cold. Trembling. My chest tightened.

“Somewhere safe,” I murmured, thumb brushing small circles over her knuckles.

She gave the faintest nod, but her sniffles broke the silence like glass underfoot. Every sound carved deeper into me.

We moved quickly through the labyrinth of corridors, her soft steps almost weightless, my own echoing like a warning. Shadows clung to the high stone walls, and the distant thrum of ancient magic vibrated through the floor. I wished I could silence the world, build a barrier of quiet just for her.

The Royal Lodge loomed a few doors down, its heavy oak doors carved with sigils of power and protection. I pushed one open with my shoulder, the hinges groaning a low protest, and guided her inside.

Warmth enveloped us—low firelight and the faint scent of cedar and iron.

Silas was there.

He sat sprawled across the leather couch like a fallen monarch, arms stretched across the backrest, eyes fixed on the vaulted ceiling as if the void itself whispered secrets only he could hear. The embodiment of death, serene and dangerous.

Isadora stopped short. For a breath she wavered, then slipped free of my hand and crossed the room in a rush of black hair and fragile resolve.

“Silas…” Her voice cracked on the name.

He blinked, startled. For a heartbeat he looked almost human, uncertain. Then she folded against him, pressing her face to his chest as if she’d known him forever.

Silas froze, hands hovering in place. A statue of midnight. Then, slowly, carefully, he lowered one arm around her, fingers threading into her hair with a gentleness that made my throat tighten.

I couldn’t look away.

The sight of her there—pale skin against his shadowed frame—hit me like a blade to the sternum. Something primal snarled in the back of my mind, a jealousy I hadn’t felt in centuries of watching mortals burn through their fleeting lives.

The door behind me slammed against the stone wall.

Rhett.

Heat rolled off him in a tangible wave, golden eyes burning like twin suns. He filled the doorway with raw power, the kind that made lesser creatures step aside without thinking.

He barely acknowledged me.

Three strides and he was beside them, dropping to one knee. His hand cupped Isadora’s tear-streaked face with a tenderness that contradicted the storm in his gaze. “Little doe,” he rumbled, voice like distant thunder. “Who did this?”

His thumb brushed the wetness from her cheek, and my chest ached at the intimacy in that single motion.

Then those burning eyes snapped to me. “You do this to her?!”

It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation wrapped in a growl, vibrating in the walls.

I lifted my hands slightly, palms outward. “Not me,” I said, my tone level despite the fury scraping at my own bones. “Lucian.”

The name was a shard of glass in my mouth.

Rhett’s jaw flexed, the muscles in his shoulders coiling like a predator poised to strike. Heat shimmered in the air between us, but his attention swung back to her almost immediately. His large palm slid to the small of her back, a gesture both protective and possessive.

And just like that, I was a shadow. Nothing but a piece of the background.

Silas remained a silent pillar, eyes dark and unreadable as his fingers traced idle lines through her hair. Rhett radiated heat and unspoken promises. Isadora trembled in the circle of their presence, the fragile center of a storm.

The room shrank around me, the warmth I’d brought her swallowed by something far more elemental—death and wildfire, cold and heat, a gravity I couldn’t compete with.

I turned for the door, the weight in my chest heavier than any blow Lucian could have landed.

“Lucian,” I said again, letting the word fall like a curse, a vow.

Then I stepped back into the corridor’s cold dark, the sound of her quiet sobs still etched against my ribs like a brand I couldn’t remove.