Her uncle didn't budge. "No buts, Zara. That is final," he said, his tone firm like hammered stone. He straightened, towering above her with a sternness that came not from anger but from fear—fear for the girl trembling on the bed, whose veins now pulsed with something unnatural.
His jaw clenched as he looked down at her. "You've danced too close to the dark already. One more step, and you won't come back as you."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the soft creak of the hide curtain shifting with the wind. Zara bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, eyes darting away as her throat tightened around unsaid words. Her uncle sat down beside her once more, this time quieter, rubbing a hand over his tired face as the firelight flickered shadows across the room.
"You're staying," he added, his voice low but resolute. "Even if I must stake you to the ground like a runaway beast."
...
