Page 97 of Tharn's Hunt
She thinks I'll reject Tharn. The realization hits me suddenly—that Justine went through this with Rok, alone and clueless,and somehow they made it through. She's worried I might not do the same.
I turn back to the tunnel. "We have to find him."
Sarven steps forward, nostrils flaring as he scents the air. He points confidently down the leftmost passage, then starts walking, clearly expecting us to follow.
The tunnel narrows as we descend deeper into the mountain. The air grows cooler, damper. Sarven moves with silent grace despite his size, while the other Drakav follows closely behind him. Rok supports Justine, who's limping badly but refuses to turn back.
Then I hear it—a low, pained growl that raises the hair on my arms.
"Tharn," I whisper, pushing past Sarven to run ahead.
The tunnel opens into a small chamber, and there, curled against the far wall, is Tharn. Or what used to be Tharn.
His golden skin is still entirely black.
But what stops me in my tracks is the change to his body. He's larger somehow, his muscles more defined, his claws longer and sharper. And between his legs, where there was once just a smooth, flat pouch, there's now... well, something decidedly not flat.
"Oh," I breathe, heat rushing to my face.
Tharn snarls, backing further against the wall, his gaze wild and unfocused. He doesn't seem to recognize any of us. His body shudders with another wave of pain.
Behind me, I hear Sarven move. A subtle shift of weight, the sound of muscle and bone settling into a coiled, ready stance.
I take a step forward, but Sarven moves quickly, blocking my path with his massive arm. His crimson eyes flick between me and Tharn, clearly concerned I'm about to get myself killed.
"Let me pass," I say, meeting his gaze directly.
He doesn't budge, just gives me a firm stare.
"Sarven," Justine calls out. "It's okay. She needs to try."
"Be careful," she adds to me, her voice tight with worry.
Sarven hesitates, his expression conflicted. I fix him with my best don't-mess-with-me glare, and after a moment, he reluctantly steps aside.
Tharn's growl deepens as I approach, his teeth bared in warning. I freeze, then force myself to breathe slowly, to project calm I don't feel.
"Hey," I say softly, taking another careful step. "Hey, Tharn. It's me. It's Jacqui."
His growl falters slightly, his head tilting as if the sound of my voice penetrates the haze of pain and instinct.
"That's it," I whisper, inching closer. "You know me. You carried me through the desert, remember?" My voice shakes only slightly. "You fought shadow creatures and sand serpents and every nightmare this planet could throw at us."
Another step.
Now I'm close enough to see it—really see it.
The stars beneath his skin aren't just glowing.
They're moving.
Tiny pinpricks of light swirl like distant galaxies, forming and reforming constellations across his arms, his chest. Patterns that feel familiar, though I've never seen them before in my life.
"You're okay," I continue, my voice low and steady. "Look at me. That's all you have to do. Just stay with me. Look at me."
His growls stop entirely, his breathing still harsh but less frantic. His pupils are blown. They track my every movement as I kneel in front of him.
"It's me," I whisper, my voice shaking despite my best efforts. "Tharn, it's me. You're okay. Just breathe, okay? Just breathe."
