𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐀
Zayne's hand moved to her throat. "Then what is she?"
"I don't know!" The Zeta's voice cracked. "But when you claimed her... the magic recognized... equivalence. Maybe even... superiority."
The word hung in the air like a blade.
"Impossible," Cyrus whispered, his black-red eyes fixed on me. "We're Scions. Demigods. Nothing is—"
"She threw me," the Zeta interrupted, her voice gaining a manic edge. "Threw me like I was nothing. That heat—that power—I've performed thousands of bindings. Never. Never has the claimed fought back. Never has the magic reversed."
"Reversed?" Kaleb's voice was rough.
The Zeta laughed, the sound wet and broken. "You wanted to own her. Brand her. Make her property." She coughed again, more blood. "But the magic... it saw her as equal. Your souls, your wolves saw her as equal even if you didn't."
She looked at the silver scars covering their bodies.
