Book One – Chapter 17

The beastkin’s ears flattened, pressing back against his skull. Slowly, he lowered himself into a crouch, one paw scraping the snow, the other bracing against his pack. His muscles coiled, tension rippling through his frame, eyes fixed on Tirran.

Again, Tirran’s gaze whirled in all directions, but his body now moved with purpose. He walked to the edge of the platform, right towards the beastkin, claws scraping against the stone, snow cracking underfoot. With every step, something within him seemed to shift, like a creature shedding its skin — no, it was not just something within him that changed. It was him. Tirran unravelled. And underneath, something older and darker stirred, something infinitely more dangerous.

Tirran stopped at the platform’s edge. “Your words smell of anger and they smell of fear, krynn, wanderer of the forest,” said the something that wormed its way into his skin and pretended to be a guard. “I believe they also smell of truth.”

The beastkin lunged, surging past the ker —

A blur of movement. A flicker, then stillness. The ker was a phantom, a shadow sliding into the beastkin’s path, arm outstretched, palm raised. He did not touch the beastkin, did not shout or threaten. Just one hand, upright and unwavering. The gesture was calm, but the effect was immediate. The beastkin froze mid-lunge, muscles locking as if the ker’s raised hand had carved a line into the world that he dared not cross. His snarl died on his lips, eyes still wide, breath stuck in his throat. It was not the gesture itself, but the force of hierarchy behind it.

Yu sucked in a shuddering breath he had not known he was holding. He found himself at the other end of the platform, farthest from Tirran, his back pressed into the ice-crusted stone of the guild wall.