The darkness didn't fall; it swelled, pressing against the edges of the Blackclaw estate like a living thing. Shadows thickened between the shattered walls, twisting into forms that were not quite animal, not quite human, yet unmistakably sentient. Every heartbeat in Selara's chest synchronized with the pulse of her Nightborne energy, silver veins flaring as though sensing the danger crawling closer. She had felt wars before, storms before, even battles that threatened to consume her, but this… this was different. The pressure of something ancient, something older than Kaelen, older than the Blackclaw line itself, pressed into her bones.
Draven's presence was immediate, anchoring. Gold eyes scanning, muscles coiled, his hand brushing hers in the familiar tether that made her feel, simultaneously, invincible and vulnerable. The unspoken tension between them from the previous morning simmered beneath the surface, but neither had the luxury of indulging it not yet.
