The two stared at each other, the same crimson light burning in their eyes.
Malakai’s voice lowered, quiet enough that I almost missed it. “You should stop talking now.”
Something dark flickered behind the King’s expression, interest, then anticipation. “Ah. There it is. The edge I was looking for.”
He straightened, hands clasped behind his back, every inch the monarch in command of the storm about to break out. “Very well. Show me, my son. Show me the strength you think surpasses mine.”
Torches flared.
The air thickened until it hurt to breathe. Power rippled through the marble, cracking beneath our feet. My fire stuttered to life, drawn towards the heat that poured from both of them.
Malakai took a single step forward. The blood threads split and multiplied, dozens of them spiraling out, red and gleaming, slicing through the air with the promise of violence.
The Demon King smiled.
And the room pulsated in red bloodied veins.
CHAPTER
32
The room was no longer dark, as the red light from Malakai’s powers lit up the entirety of it.
The explosion of heat struck before the sound. Zinlia yanked me backwards, her arm locking around my waist right as a tendril of darkness split the marble where I’d stood. The air convulsed, every breath tasting of iron and ash. I barely registered the motion before we crashed into a pillar, her body angled between me and the storm.
“Stay down,” she said, calm as ever. The command carried no emotion, yet I felt the concern behind it. Whose side was she on? Was she defying her King, or was she protecting his possession during his blind war against his own son?
As if I could stay down. The world was ending not even fifteen feet away.
Malakai moved smoothly, graceful and furious with each step. His magic didn’t so much obey, asorbithim, crimson threads flashing through the smoke, striking like vipers. Each impact shook the hall, blood magic twisting the air until the darkness hissed.
But the Demon King, he barely moved at all.
He deflected with gestures that looked almost lazy, countering force with precision, violence with patience. Where Malakai’s strikes cut through stone, the King’s power reshaped it, bending the world back into place around him. His eyes glowed brighter with every clash, not from effort, but from amusement.
“Malakai,” I whispered, the name clawing its way out of me. Zinlia’s hand pressed harder to keep me in place.
“He doesn’t need you in the crossfire,” Zinlia said, but her voice wasn’t cruel. It was distant, almost bored.
I shoved her arm away and she didn’t fight to retain her hold of me.
The weight of power nearly crushed me the moment I stood and the sickening scent of metal slammed at me in waves, thick enough to choke. Every breath felt forced in my throat. But I didn’t care. I couldn’t stand there and watch while Malakai threw himself into the battle alone.
“Malakai!” I shouted, forcing my power up from my core. It responded like a scream of defiance, flames bursting to life around my hands, bright, wild and desperate. My fire surged outward, cutting through the haze, hurtling into the King’s side.
For a heartbeat, it worked. The burst struck him, flames devouring the edge of his cloak, curling up his arm. The throne room lit like dawn breaking through blood.
And then he turned.
My flames went silent.
The air twisted, folding inward, dragging at my power. My fire bent once more, obeyinghim. It recoiled from my skin, reversed, slipping back into my chest like a disease slowly spreading through my blood. The sudden inversion hit like a blade to the gut. Pain tore through me, white and blinding.
I screamed.
My knees hit stone, my hands flying to my temples as I felt like my head was going to explode. The fire inside me writhed, clawing to escape but finding no way out. I felt it burning through every vein, searing, twisting, reshaping under his will. The world blurred, torches bending, Malakai’s shout dim through the ringing in my ears.
“Stop,” he said. Not a plea. A command that cracked through the hall.
