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“You handled that,” he says. I shrug.

“Overachiever reflex.” He steps closer. Close enough I can see the firelight in his tusks. “I’m not surprised.”

“I was scared out of my mind.”

“I’m still not surprised.”

I look at him. At the guarded heat behind his eyes. At the gentleness he tries to bury with every gruff word and schedule revision.

“You looked proud,” I say softly.

“I was.”

“And... was that all?”

His jaw clenches. “No.” He reaches up, tucks a curl behind my ear. Then lets his hand linger there, just long enough for me to feel every ounce of tension he’s still holding back.

“I’ve never needed anyone like I need you,” he says quietly. “That terrifies me.”

I step in, press a hand against his chest. “You don’t have to be afraid.” And for once, he doesn’t pull away.

CHAPTER 18

TORACK

The shouting starts before breakfast.

I hear it on my walk from the bunkhouse to the admin tent—low, angry voices at first, then louder, sharper, clustered at the front gate like wasps around sugar water.

Groth is already there when I arrive. His bulk blocks the main gate like a wall of granite, arms folded, expression flat.

“Humans,” he mutters. “Local ones.”

I grunt, step up beside him. Beyond the gate, a crowd’s gathered. Fifteen, maybe twenty. Older folks mostly, with picket signs in one hand and distrust in the other. Some of the signs are neat. Most are hand-scrawled.

KEEP MAGIC OUT

As if their technology is any safer.

NO MONSTERS NEAR OUR CHILDREN

As if we ‘monsters’ don’t have children of our own.

WE REMEMBER DARKMOOR

That last one hits.

Darkmoor was two towns over. Twenty years back. Human child wandered into a hexed forest during a game. Didn’t come back.

We’re not that forest.

But to these people? We’re close enough.

I unlock the front gate and step through.

The tension is immediate. Like a rubber band pulled too tight across all their shoulders. Half of them look surprised to see me walk out. The other half look ready to yell louder.

I don’t raise my voice.