Vaelora clicked her tongue, forcing a mask of disappointment onto her features. “It seems someone has been fighting the dark power from inside. A shame.” She lifted her hands, summoning a storm of black magic. “No matter. I can still break you.”
The blast she unleashed roared across the throne room, thick and corrosive. Cillian lunged at her, but a shadowy coil struck him midair, slamming him into the ground hard enough to crack the marble beneath him. He grunted, but immediately tried to rise.
Vaelora’s magic exploded outward, her rage a living force. Dark mist surged like snapping whips, lashing through the air and seizing everything in its path. Obren was yanked backward and slammed into a pillar with bone-jarring impact. Holden dropped to his knees, his chainspulling so tight they rattled. A wave of inky mist struck Alaric, driving him to the floor as he coughed, choking on the smothering blast.
And Evelyne—
A thick, oily tendril snaked around her neck, lifting her off the ground. Her feet kicked wildly as she clawed at the shadow choking the life from her.
Kaldrek’s blood turned to ice. Fury exploded inside him, hot and consuming.
Cillian was pinned under Vaelora’s suffocating magic, her darkness chaining him down again and again. His massive body buckled under its weight, shadows binding his limbs, strangling his movements. And still, he fought. He tore at the magic with his claws. He snapped at it with his teeth. Unlike anything Kaldrek had ever witnessed, his strength held firm against her crushing power.
No other could have withstood it.
No one but Cillian.
Kaldrek’s gaze snapped to Evelyne. Her struggles were weakening. Her golden eyes fluttered, her body sagging against the noose of shadow.
He ripped against his chains with a roar that shook the rafters. The Noskari restraining him tightened their grips, claws digging into his arms and shoulders. Kaldrek didn’t care. He lunged forward, seizing the nearest Noskari with his bare hands. With a violent twist, he tore its head from its body.
Another Noskari struck at him. Kaldrek ducked low and drove his fist upward, shattering its jaw and sending it crashing. He turned on the third, his hands slick with blood, and ripped its throat open in one savage motion.
Chains clattered around him as he broke free.
Kaldrek shifted in a flash, his wolf form surging forward like a battering ram. He tore through the chaos, his only thought to reach Evelyne and Cillian.
Sensing the shift in the battle, Vaelora shrieked with rage. Her hands blazed with raw magic, flinging bolts of shadow at anything that moved. The throne room shook under the onslaught. Stone split, and torches crashed to the floor, sending plumes of smoke into the air.
One blast caught Kaldrek along the ribs, tearing a burning gouge into his side, but he didn’t slow. He and Cillian converged on Vaelora, two forces of nature she could no longer control.
Cillian struck first. His jaws clamped around her shoulder, his strength dragging her down like a wolf bringing down an elk. She shrieked, slashing mindlessly at him with tendrils of dark magic, but Cillian held her firm. He did not let go, no matter how she thrashed or what spells she cast.
Vaelora unleashed a torrent of shadows toward Kaldrek, striking him hard enough that he staggered back a step. But he rallied, lunging forward and slashing his claws across her midsection, spilling more of her foul black blood.
Still, she fought.
Still, she screamed.
The blood moon’s crimson glow bathed the room, casting everything in the light of prophecy. And Cillian did not falter. He crushed her beneath the weight of his body, his golden eyes blazing with unrelenting fury. Vaelora lashed out, clawing at him with bursts of lethal magic, but he held firm. After all, he was the weapon fate had forged, and nothing she did could change that.
Kaldrek circled behind her, his claws tearing down her exposed back. Flesh split open, and the stench of blood and rot filled the chamber.
“Kaldrek, please! Please stop!” she cried out, desperation cracking her voice. For a split second, he faltered—and that was all she needed. A tendril of dark magic lashed out, slamming him into a shattered pillar. Pain exploded in his side. He looked down to find a fresh gouge carved into him, shadowy and bleeding like a wound from another realm. His vision blurred, but he saw Cillian still fighting relentlessly.
With a thunderous snarl, Cillian drove Vaelora to the floor again, pinning her with his weight. His claws locked her arms, and his jaw closed over her throat. Power surged through him, radiant and searing. His eyes blazed, and as his teeth pierced her flesh, it was as if he were burning the corruption out of her, stripping her soul bare.
Barely conscious, Kaldrek forced himself forward. The Noskari guarding Evelyne were too distracted by their queen’s downfall to notice him creeping closer. In one explosive motion, he lunged, his claws slashing one creature’s throat while his jaws crushed the other’s neck. Evelyne’s chains fell. She gasped, coughing against the mist that had wrapped around her throat, then reached for a length of fallen chain.
Vaelora writhed beneath Cillian, her body convulsing as thick, black blood pooled around her, magic leaking from her wounds like smoke. Her wide eyes found Evelyne standing tall, a chain wound tightly in her hands.
Cillian lifted his head just long enough to meet Evelyne’s eyes, then sank his teeth into Vaelora’s arm, shifting his hold and making space for Evelyne to step in, as if he knew exactly what she needed to do. He returned to his task without hesitation, drawing out the corruption rooted deep in Vaelora’s soul, his power burning steadily through her dark magic.
Kaldrek, still reeling and bloodied, watched through a haze of pain as Evelyne approached. His chest ached. Not from the wound, butfrom what he saw in her: the woman he had come to love, standing transformed. She was no longer the noble girl he’d once teased, but a warrior—and yet, he realized, she’d always been brave.
“If you kill me…” Vaelora rasped quietly. A twisted smile curled on her blood-blackened lips. “Your fight… won’t be—” She broke off, choking as thick, gurgling blood filled her throat. “Won’t be over…” Her voice trailed off as exhaustion took over.
Evelyne crouched beside Vaelora’s contorted form, chain in hand, and leaned close to her ear. There was no fear in her voice. Only strength. Only rage.
