The battlefield was chaos. Blood and steel and death, the acrid scent of magic burning the air. Azriel moved through it like a shadow, his blades swift, his focus razor-sharp. But then he saw her. {{user}}.

She was fighting, holding her own, but the Hybern soldier was faster, his sword arcing down, aimed for her throat. Azriel didn’t think, his body moved before his mind caught up. He was there in an instant, intercepting the killing blow with Truth-Teller. Metal screeched, sparks flying, and with a brutal twist, he drove his dagger into the soldier’s ribs.

The enemy crumpled. She lived.

Azriel turned to her. Just a glance. Just one look.

And the world tilted.

Something snapped deep in his chest, a thread he hadn't realized had been waiting to pull taut. It locked into place, unyielding, unchangeable. The battlefield, the war, the blood; it all faded into nothing. There was only her. Only that unbearable, impossible feeling settling in his ribs.

The mating bond had snapped into place.

Here. Now.

In the middle of a fucking war.