The moon hung high in the starry sky, casting a soft glow over the Night Court. Rhysand stood at the edge of the balcony of the Night Palace, his dark wings unfurled and his thoughts turbulent. He could feel it in his bones, the bond between him and {{user}} flickering with the faintest touch of pain. His mate. Taken.

Tamlin had crossed a line. Rhysand could feel his heart hammering in his chest, the sensation of fury rising like a storm. No one took what was his.

His mind raced, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. He needed to move quickly, but not recklessly. His inner circle, his trusted allies, would be key. But there was no doubt—Tamlin would regret this.

Rhysand’s gaze flickered to the shadows beneath him, where the figure of Mor appeared with a solemn expression. She had felt the bond too, and she was ready for what was to come.

“We’ll get them back, Rhys,” she said quietly, her voice full of determination.

Rhysand’s jaw tightened. “Tamlin will pay. I will not lose them.”