“So I won’t be able to do any of that?” I ask, perplexed.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t presume to tell you what you can and can’t do once you wake up entirely,” he tells me, his eyes very serious. “All I can really say is that you alone are uniquely capable of breaking the Vow.”
“And why is that?” I ask as we turn left and continue to wind through more tents. Some people are watching us now, and I can see the exchange of curious and cautious whispers as we make our way through camp.
“Because your father was Awlon the Dark, and your maternal grandfather was Verse Solei, the last Bond Forger. They were two of the five Ouphe who created the Vow. The three other Vow Founder’s bloodlines have been destroyed. You’re all that’s left of the magic that created that Bond, which is why you’re the only one who can break it.”
A snarl fills my ears at the same time panicked cries register. I pull my thoughts from the bomb of information Wekun just lobbed at me, and focus on the three pissed off gryphon shifters who are standing in a circular clearing, surrounded by people who are scrambling to get away from them and a handful of beings who look like they’re in charge of this place.
“I won’t ask again, where is my mate?” an enraged voice demands, and as the frantic crowd starts to thin, I see that it’s Ryn who’s squaring off with a female who’s taller than him and all lean muscle.
“And I’ll tell you again, I don’t know. You three popped up here alone. How are we to know what happened to her?” the female argues, frustrated.
She’s almost as tall as Zeph, but her muscles are lean and feminine. The sides of her head are shaved, leaving a strip of white wavy hair to flow back from her face and down her back. She has scars all over her arms and what looks like a set of three claw marks that slash through the middle of her face. The raised scars give the effect of war paint across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and she’s all the more fiercely beautiful for the imperfections. This is definitely not a female I’d want to fuck with.
I observe the way the other gryphons with her defer to her lead, and I deduce that this tough-as-nails-looking gryphon runs shit in this camp. She’s wearing a similar Narwagh armored clothing that many of the Hidden used to wear, and my heart leaps with excitement when I take in the pants her legs are clad in.
I look to Wekun. “Well, she looks like she’s got things well in hand,” I tell him, turning to leave.
I don’t want to talk to Ryn, Treno, or Zeph, and honestly I don’t care if they’re upset that they don’t know where I am. They can find someone else to shit on all the time. They’re surrounded by Ouphe-tainted gryphons as big and as menacing looking as the three douchebags are. It’s a sea of white tones of hair or ghostly streaks as far as the eye can see.
I realize that many of the Ouphe I saw in the other camp didn’t have that same white hair, purple eyes thing going, and I make a note to ask Wekun about why that is. He turns to follow me away from the gryphon showdown.
“Falon!” Ryn calls my name, and I groan.
Fuck. I wasn’t fast enough in sneaking away.
I don’t bother to turn around, I just keep walking.
“Falon, you will come here right now!” Zeph orders, like I’m a misbehaving dog.
Savage rage slams through me so hard that I can barely breathe through it. My wings shove out of my back, as though my body is arming itself, as I whirl around and fix a scathing glare on my three mates.
“I am not yours to command!” I bellow at them, my voice louder and filled with potent power.
Everyone around me—including Zeph, Ryn, and Treno—goes still, their eyes filled with shock and unease. Purple streaks of something crawl up my limbs and disappear into my skin, like I’m some kind of electromagnetic force and this purple energy is drawn to me. I’m reminded of the plum-colored pulse I sent out when shit was going down in Kestrel City with Lazza.
My breaths are heavy, weighed down by wrath and indignation. My pure black wings give a little snap, and I can feel Pigeon’s take that in it. I turn and continue to leave, not a sound of protest lobbed at my back.
Wekun is quiet at my side, but I can feel excitement wafting off him in steady waves. Another flicker of purple climbs up my torso, and I point at it.
“What the fuck is up with this?” I ask, “...and where can I get some pants?”
Wekun cracks up and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a side hug that squishes one of my wings. “That, Falon, is how you’re going to help save everyone, but first let’s get you cleaned up, and then I’ll explain everything.”
Steam rises up all around me from the warm pond I’m standing shoulder deep in. It feels so good I could probably orgasm right now if I just think about it long enough. I don’t because that’s weird, and Wekun is lying on the shore, facing away from me, explaining what the fuck is going on. I figure a bunch of random moans and sex gasps is not the impression I should leave on this helpful stranger, so I rein my shit in.
“Wait,” I tell Wekun, pausing the comb I’m running through my hair to get all the snarls out, and turn toward him. “So the Ouphe, or Sentinels—or whatever—fucked things up for themselves so badly in this world
