The mark appeared on his head. And in the next moment — he disappeared. For a second, I thought the flames erased his head. But no. He wasn't in front of me.
What just happened?
Then something moved through the mark on my chest. The symbol I'd been given for this ritual pulsed, sharp, sudden. Not pain. Just pressure. Warning.
The circle beneath my feet began to fracture. Lines of energy flickered, then cracked. The entire Tzalco started to shake. Dust fell from the terraces as the arena stones groaned.
And then I saw him.
Xhan. He stood at the edge of the platform. But in his arms, Khon. Still breathing. Pulled from the flames before the Brand could land.
He intervened.
He intervened.
The duel. The ritual. The sacred law their whole civilization was built on. He shattered it.
Zuran appeared like a shadow torn from the earth. His voice was low, ragged, and shaking. Not with fear. With something worse.
