The cold-iron limiter on Alaric's arm hummed with a low, dull thrum, vibrating against his bone every time his heart beat too fast. Following Varkas's instructions, he and Evelyn moved through the Upper Market of the Iron Graveyard to gather supplies for the upcoming tournament.
"Stay close," Evelyn whispered, her face hidden behind a thick wool scarf. "The Silver Rose knights are already patrolling the main squares. They are looking for anything that breathes magic."
Alaric didn't respond. His eyes, though suppressed, were still sharp. He watched the way the sunlight glinted off the polished armor of the knights in the distance. They looked so clean, so righteous—a stark contrast to the soot-covered streets and the monster hiding beneath his tattered cloak.
As they turned a corner near a blacksmith's stall, Alaric froze.
Walking toward them was a young woman in a squire's uniform. She was carrying a bundle of whetstones, her face etched with a familiar look of stern determination.
"Elara," Alaric breathed, the name tasting like ash in his mouth.
She was his younger sister's best friend, a girl he had trained personally before the war. She believed he was a hero who died for the Light.
"Don't stop, Alaric," Evelyn hissed, grabbing his arm. "Keep walking."
But it was too late. Elara stopped just a few feet away, her eyes widening as she caught a glimpse of Alaric's jawline and the way he carried his shoulders—a stance she had seen a thousand times on the training grounds.
"Sir... Alaric?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Alaric didn't look at her. He pulled his hood lower, his heart hammering against the dragon-lungs. The limiter on his arm began to glow a hot, angry red as his adrenaline spiked. The scent of her fear and confusion triggered the predator in him, a low growl nearly escaping his throat.
"You have the wrong man, girl," Alaric said, his voice forced into a deep, gravelly rasp.
He pushed past her, his shoulder brushing against hers. He could feel the shock radiating from her. He didn't look back, even when he heard her call his name again, louder this time.
"She'll tell Gareth," Evelyn whispered urgently as they ducked into a crowded alleyway. "She'll tell him she saw a ghost."
"Let her," Alaric said, his golden pupils flashing for a split second in the shadows. "Let them come. I'm tired of being the only one who remembers what happened in that forest."