"Never Overextend Again!"

The crushing pressure, the searing heat, the terrifying vertical slits of molten gold in Theron's eyes – they held the battlefield in a suspended, breathless terror. Imps cowered, Voidlings recoiled, even the wind seemed to still under the weight of the dragon knight's unleashed wrath. His focus, however, remained solely on the pale, limp form in his arms. Elias's shallow breathing, the only sign of life, was a fragile thread tethering Theron's fury to the precipice of annihilation.

He didn't roar. He didn't unleash the inferno threatening to consume the fort. Instead, the inhuman growl vibrating in his chest deepened, a sound of pure, possessive urgency. Still cradling Elias protectively against his chestplate, Theron surged to his feet in one powerful motion. He moved not with his usual predatory grace, but with a terrifying, single-minded intensity, radiating waves of heat and that suffocating aura of ancient dominance.

"IRONWARD! HOLD THIS POSITION! EVENTIDE – COVER!" The command ripped from him, distorted, deeper than his normal voice, layered with that visceral growl. It wasn't a request; it was the edict of an apex predator.

He didn't wait for acknowledgment. Ignoring the stunned knights, the cowering demons, the wide-eyed garrison soldiers, Theron turned. His booted feet struck the bloodied stones with heavy, deliberate thuds that resonated through the unnatural silence. He strode purposefully towards the relative shelter of the fort's inner keep, a dark, armored monolith carrying his precious, fragile burden. The shimmering heat haze and the oppressive aura moved with him, a mobile zone of draconic authority that forced a path through friend and foe alike. Kain, snapping out of his shock, bellowed orders, reforming the shield wall with renewed fervor, his eyes wide with awe and residual fear as Theron passed. Lyris, her staff crackling with contained energy, watched Theron go, her storm-grey eyes narrowed in intense fascination, noting how the volatile dragon aura seemed to curl protectively around the unconscious Cardinal, like wings of shadow and heat.

Theron kicked open the heavy door to a small, intact storeroom that had been hastily converted into a field infirmary. The air inside was thick with the coppery tang of blood and the sharp scent of medicinal herbs. A garrison medic looked up from bandaging a wounded soldier, his eyes widening in terror as Theron filled the doorway, radiating menace and unnatural heat.

"OUT." The single word, growled with barely restrained fury, sent the medic scrambling backwards, abandoning his patient in his haste to obey. The wounded soldier stared, petrified.

Theron ignored them. His gaze swept the room, finding a relatively clear space against a wall lined with sacks of grain. He strode over and knelt again, his movements still possessing that terrifying power but now tempered by a desperate gentleness when handling Elias. He carefully laid the healer down on a folded cloak someone had left behind, cushioning his head. The golden nimbus around Theron flickered erratically, the vertical pupils still blazing in his eyes as he looked down at Elias's deathly pale face.

Elias stirred weakly, a low moan escaping his lips. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes clouded with pain and exhaustion, struggling to focus in the dim light. The backlash of void energy and the utter depletion of his Light had left him feeling hollowed out, fragile as spun glass.

"Th… Theron?" His voice was a thin rasp, barely audible.

The sound of his name, spoken in that weak, vulnerable tone, acted like a shock to Theron's system. The terrifying vertical pupils contracted slightly, the molten gold swirling with a complex storm of relief, lingering fury, and profound, agonizing worry. The oppressive aura didn't vanish, but it seemed to *focus*, intensifying around Elias like a shield rather than a weapon. The heat radiating from Theron remained, a constant, fierce warmth enveloping the shivering healer.

Theron reached out. One large, gauntleted hand, still warm from battle and his own inner fire, gently cupped Elias's icy cheek. The other hand rested possessively on his chest, feeling the too-rapid flutter of his heartbeat beneath the thin fabric of his robes. The touch was grounding, anchoring Elias back to reality.

"Elias," Theron breathed, his voice a low, gravelly rasp, strained with emotion. It was stripped of the dragon's growl, but thick with a possessiveness that vibrated in the small room. His thumb brushed gently over Elias's cheekbone, a stark contrast to the fury still etched in the lines of his face. "Look at me."

Elias's bleary gaze slowly focused on Theron's face. He saw the heat distortion in the air around him, felt the intense warmth of his touch, and registered the unnatural, predatory glint still present in his eyes. But overriding the fear that sight might have evoked was the raw, commanding concern blazing in Theron's expression. It was a fierce, protective love, terrifying in its intensity.

Theron leaned closer, his face inches from Elias's. His breath, hot and smelling faintly of ozone and leather, ghosted over Elias's skin. His voice dropped even lower, a harsh, guttural whisper that brooked no argument, layered with the remnants of the dragon's growl and an emotion so raw it scraped Elias's soul:

"Never." The word was a vow, a command etched in steel. "Never overextend yourself like that again." His grip on Elias's cheek tightened infinitesimally, not hurting, but emphasizing the absolute nature of his order. His eyes, those terrifyingly changed eyes, bored into Elias's, demanding understanding, demanding obedience. "Not without my explicit permission. Do you understand me?"

He paused, the silence heavy with the weight of his next words, spoken with a ragged intensity that laid bare his deepest fear:

"Your life…" Theron's voice broke slightly on the words, the dragon's growl momentarily resurfacing, "...is worth more than this entire cursed fort. More than every demon clawing at the gates. More than…" He seemed to struggle, the words failing him, but the blazing conviction in his eyes said it all. More than anything. More than my own. "You do not throw it away."

The command was absolute, born of terror and a love that defied doctrine and danger. Elias, weak and trembling, felt the truth of it resonate deep within his battered core. The fear of the dragon's visage faded, replaced by an overwhelming wave of unprecedented safety. Here, in this chaotic, blood-stained storeroom, held captive by Theron's fierce gaze and his protective, terrifying aura, Elias felt a security he had never known. It wasn't the sterile safety of the Cathedral walls. It was the fierce, possessive, living safety of being sheltered by a force of nature that declared him its most sacred, irreplaceable treasure.

Too weak for words, his body still trembling from depletion and the lingering chill of the void, Elias managed a small, jerky movement. He nodded. It was a surrender, an acceptance, a silent promise whispered against Theron's palm still cupping his face. He understood. He felt the truth of Theron's words in the searing heat surrounding him, in the desperate concern in those inhuman yet profoundly human eyes. His life, in Theron Blackwood's fiercely possessive calculus, was paramount. And in that terrifying, draconic embrace, amidst the scent of blood and herbs and ozone, Elias Vance found a sanctuary more profound than any holy ground. He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed, surrendering to the exhaustion and the overwhelming, paradoxical safety of the dragon's wrath. Theron remained kneeling, a silent, armored sentinel radiating heat and fury, guarding his reclaimed Light with the promise of annihilation for any who dared threaten it again.