He did not see blood, but he saw a body straining against something it did not know how to hold.
"What is this?" he muttered.
Then he stopped wasting time.
Dark power slid out from his fingertips in quiet black threads, soft and thin at first, like smoke with thought inside it. It moved over the furs, over Isabella's body, and then sank gently into the space around her as Zyran checked what was wrong. Usually, his power felt cold, but this time the moment it touched the strange thing inside her, it gave back a faint pulse that made even him go still.
Demonic blood.
Zyran frowned.
At first, he thought he had made a mistake.
Because why would there be demonic blood inside Isabella?
He checked again.
The dark power sank deeper, and this time the scent became clearer. It was faint only because something had been suppressing it, pushing it down, making it quiet. Still, to someone like Zyran, whose own blood and power came from the underworld, that scent could never fully hide.
