Zara lies crumpled on the cold stone floor, her body a canvas of pain and torment. Deep gashes mar her skin, blood pooling beneath her in dark, viscous puddles. Her arm twists at an unnatural angle, the bones clearly shattered. Bruises bloom across her face and neck, vivid and violent. Her magic is a faint, fractured hum, struggling against the oppressive weight of the room. Every shallow breath she takes rattles with effort, a testament to the brutality she’s endured.
“Zara,” I breathe, moving toward her.
Darius grabs my arm, stopping me. His gaze sweeps the room, his instincts honed from years of battle.
“It’s not over,” he says. “Look.”
I follow his gaze and spot the body crumpled on the floor. Malric. His lifeless form lies in a pool of blood, his crimson eyes dull and empty. But it’s not relief that washes over me.
It’s dread.
The chamber is flooded with something else, something wrong and corrupt. Malric’s magic, once overpowering, is gone. It’s vacuumed out the room like a dark storm cloud ripped from the heavens before it can break and rain down devastation. I feel it in the pit of my stomach, a gnawing sensation that writhes across my skin. The blood beneath him stills, but he was drainedby more than death. His magic is missing. More than the man is gone and everything that made him dangerous is somewhere else. Somewhere even more deadly.
“Galen,” Darius says, his voice heavy.
As if summoned by the name, the shadows in the room deepen, coiling like a living thing. The air chills, and a figure steps into view, his presence commanding and terrifying. Galen. His eyes burn with dark amusement, his hands still stained with Malric’s blood. Galen’s lips curl in a smile, but it’s not amusement that colors his expression. It’s triumph, a victor savoring its win, despite the horror and abomination of the victory itself.
Galen’s mere presence freezes me in place for a heartbeat too long, and then I hear it: a choked, ragged sound from Zara. The sight of her, crumpled and bleeding, sends an agonizing jolt through my chest. Fury surges, white-hot and uncontrollable.
Her body is twisted, skin mottled with bruises, cuts carving jagged lines through her flesh. Blood stains the ground beneath her, pooling around her like a sickening testament to Galen’s cruelty. She’s barely conscious, but her eyes lock onto mine, filled with a strange urgency. She tries to speak, but the words come out broken, strained, barely a whisper, as if every breath is a struggle.
“Stop staring,” she hisses. “You’re wasting time. Kill the fucker before he kills us all.”
I barely register her words at first, my gaze locked on her ravaged form, heart clenched with fury. But the urgency in her voice cuts through my dazed thoughts, sharp and clear. She’s right. I can’t waste another fucking second.
“Stop waiting and start acting. Fucking act, before he grows even stronger.” The blood pooling around her thickens, its weight pressing on my chest. “I didn’t ask to be left to rot while you stand here, fucking staring. You owe me. You owe me everything. Now, kill him.”
I know what she’s asking. What she’s demanding. What the blood weave demands and will not be satisfied until I have brought. And something inside me snaps. The rage that has simmered underthe surface for so long is about to erupt.
I’m coming for my eldest brother. And this time, nothing’s going to stop me.
I’m consumed by thoughts of ripping him apart. I want to feel his bones snap under my grip, taste the bitterness of his blood as it spills across the floor. Images of him writhing beneath me, helpless and in pain, flash before me, and I want to wipe his smug grin from his fucking face as I tear his atoms apart and he begs for mercy. I imagine every muscle in my body straining as I crush him, savoring the violence, the brutality, the primal pleasure of watching him suffer. I want to break him, make him scream, watch the life drain from his eyes.
His blood should stain the ground, a symbol of my vengeance.
But I know—know—that I won’t stop until he’s gone, until every last trace of his existence is wiped from this world.
“You,” Galen hisses, his tone venomous as he stares at Darius. He stalks closer to us, but before he can take another step, my voice cuts through the tense air. “Don’t.”
Darius steps forward, but it’s my own voice that echoes. “You move one step closer to her, and I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
“You’re late, Kade,” Galen replies, his eyes flicking to me. “I was wondering how much damage I’d have to do before you showed up.”
“Get away from her,” I snarl, stepping in front of Zara.
My magic flares, ready to strike.
Galen’s smile widens. “Such devotion. It’s almost touching. But she’s not yours to save, Kade.”
Darius steps up beside me, his knife glowing faintly. “And you think she’s yours to claim, Galen?”
“Claim?” Galen laughs, the sound cold and hollow. “No. She’s mine to use and take from. Mine to harvest. Mine to strip bare and drain until there’s not one drop of magic left in her, and then she’s mine to do with as I fucking want. She’s mine because I’ve earned her. Unlike you, fumbling around like a fucking child. You can choose him, Darius, but if you do, I won’t spare you from myfucking wrath. Or your whore, either.”
“You were born a cunt, Galen, and you’ll fucking die as one.”
The room crackles with tension, the air thick with the promise of violence. My hands clench into fists, my magic begging to be unleashed. But Galen isn’t just any opponent. He’s stronger, smarter, and utterly ruthless. He’s stolen Malric’s power. Siphoned it away like a greedy fucking parasite until there was nothing left but a corpse, and now that power is his to wield.
The black pulse of magic that swirls around him is more than darkness. It’s worse than dread. It’s an abomination that moves with purpose, a living, writhing mass of corruption that taints everything it touches. Even the soul. It infects the very air, chokes the life from the chamber, and leaves an empty void in its wake. It’s the end of existence, the primordial darkness from which few escape. It’s the final breath before the world goes black and the terror of being hunted as your killer closes in on you.
