I couldn’t sleep.

  So I ended up sitting alone near the top of the bunker, close to the hatch.

  I’d always liked nighttime. The way shadows stretched and shifted across the ground. The steady chorus of crickets. The soft rustle of animals moving through the brush.

  It felt… honest.

  Less complicated than people.

  Ivan had taken the hoard explanation about as well as could be expected.

  Which was to say—

  There had been a significant amount of scowling when the phrase dragons cuddle their hoards was introduced.

  He’d demanded clarification.

  Then he’d asked if there was a required percentage of time one was expected to spend with a hoard.

  Like it was a tax bracket.

  I bailed on the conversation at that point.

  Some things were above my pay grade.

  I could hear snoring from below.

  Sounded like everyone was finally asleep.

  “Warriors need their rest.”

  The deep, powerful voice came from right beside me.

  I yelped and nearly pitched straight down the hatch.

  A strong, leather-gloved hand shot out and hauled me back before I could break something.

  Probably my neck.

  I whipped around.

  Golden eyes.

  Olive-green skin.

  Pointed ears.

  Flaming red hair.

  Battered leather armor.

  And an expression that suggested he was enjoying this far too much.

  Galbraith, Chaos whispered.

  Oh. Good.

  I was so dead.

  “If I had wished to kill you,” Galbraith said mildly, releasing me, “I would have already done so.”

  That was not reassuring.

  Words.

  I needed words.

  “Your son talks more than you,” he observed.

  I nodded.

  No point denying that.

  “I usually test new Vessels and Guardians in a fight,” Galbraith said, studying me.

  “But your fear of magic makes that… unwise.”

  I shrugged.

  I was working on it.

  Movement echoed from below.

  Galbraith’s smile widened.

  It was a terrible smile.

  Not cruel.

  Just powerful.

  “Ah,” he said softly. “The one who may be able to help.”

  My eyebrows climbed toward my hairline.

  “Daniel?” Jerod called from below.

  A beat.

  Then a long, deeply put-upon sigh.

  “Why.”

  “Up here,” I called down, shooting Galbraith a sharp look. “But I’m not alone.”

  He was still smiling.

  That was not comforting.

  “Do I want to know?” Jerod asked. He sounded like he’d reached the ladder and was already climbing.

  I glanced at the ancient warrior-god beside me.

  “No,” I said honestly. “No, you do not.”

  I paused.

  “I don’t even want to be here right now.”

  “Shadow Lords are always dramatic,” Galbraith chuckled. “The last one tested poorly and broke. He wasn’t strong to begin with.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  That was not reassuring.

  “You,” he continued, looking far too pleased, “are much stronger.”

  I suddenly wanted company.

  Immediately.

  “Jerod…”

  “Almost there,” he called up, long-suffering.

  “Yeah,” I said slowly, not taking my eyes off the being beside me. “I don’t think you want to be up here.”

  Galbraith’s golden gaze flicked toward the hatch.

  I did not like that.

  At all.

  “Come, King of Halloween,” Galbraith said mildly. “I do not visit the Holiday Realms often. It is… instructive to meet your kind.”

  There was a pause in the climbing below.

  “Who the hell do you have up there?!” Jerod demanded as he hauled himself through the hatch.

  His eyes locked on Galbraith.

  “He’s definitely not normal.”

  “I am who I am,” Galbraith replied with a small shrug.

  Jerod scrambled the rest of the way up and planted himself firmly beside me.

  “I’m not leaving you alone with this guy,” he said flatly. “Attwater and stupid experiments already triggered enough changes.”

  “Attwater’s experiments,” Galbraith said calmly, “simply awakened spell-suppressed heritage.”

  He looked back at me, golden eyes intent.

  “Heritage that may now be used to aid the Shadow Lord.”

  Jerod stared at me. “Do you even know this guy?”

  “Only from Chaos casually mentioning him,” I said, not taking my eyes off Galbraith.

  “You’re reeking of fear, just so you know,” Jerod added.

  I sighed.

  Galbraith smirked.

  “I think you will understand it more once you feed for the first time.”

  I crossed my arms. “Shouldn’t I be able to do that already? The suppression spell’s mostly gone.”

  “Mostly,” he agreed, studying me. “It still suppresses the part of you that needs to feed on fear. A Shadow Lord must have both—feeding and hoard—to anchor him.”

  He smiled again.

  “A forced feeding will shatter the rest of the cage. Hoard is what keeps the Shadow Lord from tearing himself apart afterward.”

  Cage.

  That was not a good word.

  I flinched.

  Dropped my arms and pressed my palms against the cool earth instead.

  “Human regulation does not work for you,” Galbraith continued, almost indulgently. “Claim Jerod. Let him use his power on you.”

  My head snapped up.

  Jerod was right there.

  “I was present for the entire hoard-cuddle discussion,” he said flatly.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose.

  “Jerod. They used the word cuddle far too often because they were raised as shifters.”

  He blinked at me. “You weren’t?”

  “Less than a week,” I ground out.

  “Less than two,” Galbraith corrected mildly. “Attwater had you for one of them. You frustrated him greatly.”

  That was not reassuring in the slightest.

  “Then what do they mean?” Jerod’s voice climbed an octave.

  I felt the magic spike with it.

  “It’s grounding touch,” I said quickly. “Helping a dragon regulate emotions and power. In extreme cases—yeah, the dragon cuddles. It’s weird. I should be stable enough that all I need is a hand on your shoulder. Something small.”

  He deflated. “Oh.”

  “If Ivan ever claims you as hoard—” I began.

  “Which he desperately needs to, for both your balances,” Galbraith added mildly.

  “He’ll probably try to crawl into your lap,” I continued.

  I paused.

  Glanced at Jerod.

  Thought about how big Ivan was.

  “…Or you’ll end up sitting in his. More likely.”

  Jerod looked genuinely horrified.

  Time to rip off the bandage.

  “Jerod,” I said quietly. “I claim you as hoard.”

  The magic snapped into place.

  It should have been simple.

  A clean bond.

  Relief flooding my system.

  It wasn’t.

  Galbraith caught me before I hit the ground.

  Jerod clung to my other side as power surged through both of us at once.

  Shadows.

  Chaos.

  Fear.

  Thoughts slid together like puzzle pieces finally finding their edges.

  My system rebooted hard.

  I gasped and clutched Jerod’s knee like it was a lifeline.

  For one heartbeat, everything was too much.

  Then it wasn’t.

  The surge didn’t vanish — it redistributed.

  I felt it happen.

  Fear draining out of me in a slow, controlled tide instead of a flood.

  Shadows folding inward — not disappearing, just… contained.

  Chaos humming instead of screaming.

  Jerod’s hand came down on my shoulder.

  Firm.

  Steady.

  Not claiming.

  Anchoring.

  My breathing hitched once more, then evened out. The pressure in my skull eased, like someone had finally adjusted a valve that had been cranked too tight for years.

  “Oh,” I managed.

  Jerod exhaled shakily. “That’s… a lot quieter.”

  I nodded, still gripping his knee. Not ready to let go yet.

  “Yeah,” I said softly. “That’s the point.”

  Galbraith watched us with sharp interest, golden eyes bright.

  “There it is,” he murmured. “Stability.”

  I leaned back against Jerod’s leg, finally trusting my weight to stay where it was.

  My hands stopped shaking.

  The bond settled — not heavy, not suffocating.

  Present.

  Balanced.

  For the first time in as long as I could remember, my power wasn’t pressing outward, searching for somewhere to go.

  It had somewhere to rest.

  And yet—

  Something underneath it didn’t.

  The chaos had gone quiet, folding inward instead of tearing outward. But the pressure behind my eyes didn’t ease.

  If anything, the emptiness felt sharper now that everything else had stilled — like realizing how hungry you are only after the pain stops screaming.

  Galbraith’s grip tightened just enough to keep me upright.

  “Anchored,” he said, satisfied.

  Then, almost thoughtfully, “But not fed.”

  Jerod’s hand stayed on me.

  Firm.

  Steady.

  The hunger lingered.

  Galbraith reached across me and shifted Jerod’s hand to my chest.

  “Let the fear flow into him.”

  Jerod stiffened. “I don’t— I don’t know how.”

  “You do,” Galbraith said calmly. “You simply haven’t trusted it yet.”

  Jerod swallowed.

  I felt his pulse jump beneath his palm.

  “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said quietly — more to me than to Galbraith.

  “I know,” I managed. “Just… don’t push. Let it come to you.”

  His hand pressed more firmly against my chest. Not forceful. Just present.

  Grounding.

  I felt his uncertainty ripple through the bond — sharp, anxious.

  Then—

  Hesitation.

  The fear didn’t surge.

  It seeped.

  The ambient dread I’d been holding at bay loosened its grip, sliding toward the space between us like water finding a crack.

  Not ripped free.

  Not dragged out.

  Accepted.

  I gasped softly as the pressure behind my eyes shifted again — not easing, but changing shape. The hollow ache dulled at the edges.

  “Oh,” Jerod breathed. “I can feel it.”

  “Good,” Galbraith said. “Do nothing else.”

  Jerod froze, clearly tempted to try something.

  The fear continued to flow — slow, measured. Regulated by the bond. By touch. By restraint.

  My shoulders sagged as warmth spread through my chest, grounding instead of overwhelming. The hunger didn’t vanish, but it stopped clawing.

  Enough.

  “That’s enough,” Galbraith said sharply.

  Jerod pulled his hand back immediately, like he’d been burned.

  The shadows around us settled into their proper places.

  I leaned into him without thinking, breath finally steadying. My thoughts felt… aligned.

  Not fixed.

  Not full.

  But no longer fraying.

  Jerod stared at his hand like it had betrayed him. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You did exactly what was required,” Galbraith said. “You allowed. You did not command.”

  Jerod looked at me, searching. “Did it help?”

  I nodded, exhaustion washing through me.

  “Yeah,” I said quietly. “It did.”

  Not a feast.

  Not relief.

  But triage.

  Sleep pulled at me.

  “You passed,” Galbraith said, waving a hand.

  Suddenly, I was lying in the nest I’d made on the floor.

  Jerod was on the top bunk, staring down at me with wide, slightly unhinged eyes.

  “What just happened?”

  I yawned as sleep dragged my eyelids closed.

  “Galbraith happened.”

  Darkness took me.

  Galbraith: Ready to explain the theatrics, or are we pretending that didn’t happen?

  Lady Emberflame: I write cussing, military fantasy heroes. My real life is… slightly different. Okay?

  Galbraith: What has you so worked up?

  Lady Emberflame: Bible Bowl. It’s next weekend. I need to study.

  Galbraith blinks. “What is Bible Bowl?”

  Lady Emberflame: Bible-based trivia competition. I’ve been preparing since September. Two-day event. West Virginia.

  Galbraith: And why, pray tell, are you worried about readers knowing that?

  Lady Emberflame: Does my writing strike you as “conservative Christian author” energy?

  Galbraith: …No.