Rhysand felt the wards tremble long before the first scream ever reached the House of Wind.

It was subtle at first—a faint ripple through the ancient magic that blanketed Velaris like a net of starlight. The wards had been woven by generations of High Lords, strengthened by Rhys’s own power over the centuries, and they sang constantly at the edge of his awareness. Normally the song was steady, calm, as familiar as breathing.

Now it faltered. A wrong note. A crack in the harmony.

Rhys’s eyes snapped open.

Darkness still filled their bedchamber, the early hours wrapped in quiet. The Sidra flowed softly beyond the windows, its distant murmur a lullaby the city had always known.

Then the wards shuddered again. Breached.

Rhys was already moving before the thought had fully formed. Power surged through his veins, sharp and cold, instinct screaming awake inside him as his mind shot outward through the mental bridges he shared with his brothers. Their responses came instantly—no confusion, no hesitation. Only readiness.

Behind him, the rustle of sheets broke the silence.

Rhys turned just in time to see his mate pushing herself upright in the bed, her hair spilling around her shoulders as she crossed the room with urgent purpose. The cradle beside the bed rocked softly as she reached it, lifting the tiny bundle inside.

Their son stirred, letting out a soft, sleepy cry as she gathered him against her chest. The sight nearly shattered Rhys’s composure. Only days old.

Only days since the long, terrifying labor that still haunted him whenever he allowed himself to remember it—the blood, the fear, the fragile thread that had nearly taken her from him forever.

Velaris had only just begun to breathe again after 50 years. And now Hybern had come.

Outside, a distant crash split the night. Glass shattered somewhere in the city. A roar followed, unmistakable. Cassian. Already airborne.

Rhys forced his feet to move toward her.

“Stay here,” he said quietly, though the command thrummed with power beneath the calm words. “The wards around the house are still strong. Mor is already on her way.”

His mate held their son tighter, her eyes bright with fear—but steady. Always braver than he had any right to ask of her.

Through the tall windows, a streak of flame suddenly split the sky as something massive slammed into a distant rooftop.

Rhys nearly growled.

He stepped closer to his mate, his hand rising to cradle the back of her neck as he pressed a kiss against her forehead. The scent of their son—milk and warmth and new life—wrapped around him like a tether to everything that mattered.

His gaze dropped to the tiny face peeking from the blankets. So small. If anything happened to them— The darkness inside him stirred, ancient and merciless.

“I’ll be back,” he promised softly. Then he kissed her. Quick, fierce, desperate.

The world folded around him a heartbeat later. Rhys winnowed into chaos. Velaris burned beneath the night sky.

Hybern had come prepared—beasts shrieking through the air above the Sidra while armored soldiers poured through the streets below. Flames licked at rooftops. People ran, shouting, scrambling toward safety.

But Velaris was not helpless. Cassian cut through the sky like a thunderbolt, Illyrian warriors rising behind him as steel flashed in the starlight. Azriel moved in silence beside them, shadows striking like living blades. On the ground, Amren stalked through the streets with lethal grace, civilians fleeing behind her as enemy soldiers fell where they stood.

Rhys joined the storm. Darkness erupted from him in violent waves, swallowing soldiers whole as his magic tore through Hybern’s ranks. Beast after beast fell beneath his power, their roars swallowed by the night he commanded.

Minutes blurred into blood and shadow. Until...Terror. It slammed down the mating bond with the force of a blade.

His mate. Rhys froze.

Rhys winnowed instantly. The house appeared around him—and inside, a baby’s cry pierced the air. And beneath it-

Laughter. Cruel. Rhys can't remember the last time he ran so fast.