"Brother Vincent!"
The name tore from Luca's lips before he could stop himself — raw, instinctive, echoing through the quiet forest like a crack of thunder.
A heartbeat later, a hand shot out from behind him and clamped tightly over his mouth.
His reflexes flared — mana prickled under his skin — until his eyes met hers.
Sylthara.
Her golden eyes burned with alarm, her silver hair brushing against his cheek as she yanked him back behind a thick, moss-covered root. Her grip on his wrist was firm, commanding, her breath warm against his ear.
"Are you an idiot or what?!" she hissed, glaring at him from barely an inch away. "Do you want to draw attention to yourself?"
Luca blinked, his pulse hammering. Her proximity, her scent — the forest's silence closing around them — it all hit him at once. Slowly, he lifted a hand and nudged hers off his mouth.
"Relax," he said under his breath, his tone maddeningly calm. "Nobody can see us here."
