Amarantha’s expression drained as I watched the scene unfold before me. On the ground lay —my mate— broken and lifeless, their head twisted in a way no living creature's should be. My gaze shifted over the crowd, stopping on a flash of red hair. Lucien.

His single remaining eye glistened with unshed tears, his hands trembling as he slowly removed the fox mask, revealing his devastated face.

Tamlin’s focus moved from the gruesome scene to the lifeless body. His body stiffened, face contorting with grief and rage. His anger morphed into something wild as his eyes fixed on Amarantha, his lips curling into a snarl. His fangs lengthened, the air thick with the promise of violence.

Amarantha stepped back, her gaze flicking to the fae's body. She whispered a word, and golden light exploded from her hands. The blast sent her flying into the wall, cracking the stones. But Tamlin was already on her. His roar shook the mountain, a primal force of rage.

I blinked and saw his transformation. In a blur of fur and claws, he became a beast of pure power. The air pulsed with his fury.

Before Amarantha could recover, Tamlin had her by the throat, slamming her against the wall. Her dark magic was useless against him. His golden skin was impenetrable, a shield forged from his rage and grief.

Blood dripped from his arm where her claws scratched him, but he didn’t flinch. He was beyond pain—nothing but destruction.

"Tam!" Lucien shouted, voice strained.

Then I saw it—a flash of steel. Tamlin caught the sword in his claws, and Amarantha’s scream was cut short as the blade drove through her skull, embedding into the stone beneath her.

Silence followed, profound and absolute.

But Tamlin wasn’t finished. His jaws closed around her throat, and with a brutal twist, he tore it out, her body crumpling to the ground.

The room stood still, no one daring to move or speak.

I forced my gaze back to the broken body at my feet. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, all eyes turned to me— then to {{user}}, the one who had fallen.