Lana
The echo of the magical explosion still lingered in the air when a commotion erupted from the edge of the camp.
Ezric's tent flew open. The boy emerged with disheveled hair and a panicked expression, clutching his bundle of artifacts like a favorite pillow.
"What the—" His voice cut off when he saw two silhouettes standing at the edge of the firelight.
Sylas and Kaelith.
Even the horse-like creatures tied to the trees growled, restless, and let out uneasy sounds. They tugged at their restraints, sensing the danger thick in the air.
Sylas stepped forward. His face still wore a smile, but his movements carried a hidden weight.
"We're not here to argue. We're just taking our wife back," he said calmly.
Lucen shifted his stance, placing himself more squarely in front of me. His shoulders were relaxed, but black magic pulsed faintly from his skin.
"She doesn't belong to you," Lucen muttered. Cold.
Kaelith, who had been staring at me the whole time, finally spoke.
