BARBARIAN: The Mad Alpha Is My Mate.
Around him stood robed figures, and their voices were the ones he'd heard first, low and urgent, arguing over the man on the table like physicians arguing over a difficult case.
*Blood magic.* He knew that too, the way he'd known the name Vaelor. Forbidden even here, even now, even in a hall thick with the kind of ambition that didn't ask permission from anyone. He could see it moving—dark threads pulled from the man's veins, drawn out and twisted and folded back in on themselves, layered over something that wasn't blood at all, something older, something *hungry* that the robed figures had reached into the dark to find and were now stitching into a living man because they wanted to see what
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