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Every time the veil weakened, it reached out. Every time, those who found it tried to kill it. It fought. Realms cracked. People died. The vision vanished. I staggered.

Poppy caught my arm. "What did it show you?"

"A lie."

The creature recoiled. "No lie."

"You destroyed them." I accused.

"Trapped." It contradicted.

"You fed."

"I was hungry." It defended.

"You consumed an entire realm."

"Fell."

The word reverberated through the clearing. Not attacked. Not hunted. Fell. The realm I had entered centuries ago returned to me. The collapsing sky. The souls fleeing judgment. The world folding inward around a single point. I believed this creature caused it.

Perhaps it had. But none of its suffering changed what it had done. My grip tightened around the hilt. The runes along my blade flared brighter. Enough. Whatever tragedy had created this thing, it had fed on realms. Drained the veil. Brought Mrs. Wilton to the edge of death. And now it had reached for my power.

It would not do so again. I shifted my stance. The creature saw. Its pale face turned toward Poppy. No! "Do not look at her."

Too late. Its eyes met hers. Poppy gasped. Her body went rigid. The same vision tore through her that it had forced into me. I knew the moment it began. Knew by the way her pupils widened. By the way the color vanished from her face. By the tears gathering before she could understand why. Rage obliterated everything else.

It touched her mind.

It put itself inside her.

I struck.

The sword cut through the air with enough force to split stone.

"Azaren, no!"

Poppy moved. Not away. Between us. For one impossible second, all I saw was her. The way her hair lifted in the wake of the blade, the way her eyes widened and most of all, her body directly in my sword's path. Something inside me shattered. Something I had believed could not feel fear. In the last possible moment, I wrenched the sword aside.

The blade passed so close to her throat that one bright strand of hair curled away and drifted to the ground. The force of the missed strike split a tree behind her. Wood exploded through the clearing.

Silence followed. I stared at her. She stared back.

Her chest heaved. She was alive. Cold sweat broke across my back despite the infernal heat rolling from my skin. It slid between my shoulder blades and gathered at the base of my neck.

My hand began to shake. I had nearly killed her. No enemy had ever struck me with greater force. No wound had ever hollowed me out so completely.

"Poppy." Her name came from me raw.

She swallowed. "Azaren⁠—"

"Woman." I seized her by the arms. "What in damnation were you thinking?"

"I—"

"You stepped in front of my sword."

"I had to stop you."