“Go.” I shove him toward the tunnel. “Now.”
He goes. Grabs another stock member on his way. Then another. A trickle becoming a stream, survivors fleeing into the wilderness that surrounds the Vale.
The Blood Matron will send hunters. Will track them down one by one. But some might make it. Some might survive.
A fraction of what I wanted. A fraction of what they deserve.
But it’s what I can give them.
Dena clings to my hand as we skirt the pit’s southern rim. The churning water below us glows brighter now—all that death feeding into it, power accumulating in the depths. The bone formations beneath the surface seem to shift and reach, skeletal fingers grasping at the new offerings.
“Imara.” Dena’s voice is small. “What’s happening?”
“We’re leaving.” I pull her faster. “We’re getting out.”
“But—the Sanctum—my training?—”
“Forget the training.” I stop. Turn. Make her meet my gaze. “The Sanctum is a lie. Everything they told you about your purpose, your potential—lies. You’re not stock. You’re not a resource. You’re a child, and you deserve to live.”
Her eyes shine.
“Do you understand?” I grip her shoulders. “Dena. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
She nods. A tiny, terrified motion.
“Good.” I straighten. “Now run.”
We’re almostclear when the blood-wards surge.
The power hits me first—a wave of crimson energy that crashes against my senses, makes my own scarification burn with reflected force. The wards aren’t just active; they’re amplified. Someone is pouring power into them, boosting their reach beyond anything I’ve felt before.
Then I hear her voice.
“Kharvek. Imara.”
The Blood Matron. Her words echo from everywhere and nowhere, carried by the wards themselves, impossibly clear despite the chaos around us.
“I’m not angry.”
I freeze. Dena whimpers beside me.
“I’m proud.”
The pit’s glow intensifies. The screaming of the dead grows louder, their eternal wail twisted into what sounds almost like applause.
“You’ve shown me what you could produce.”
My blood runs cold.
She knows. She’s known this entire time—known about the modifications, known about our alliance, known about everything we’ve been building in secret. And she’s not trying to stop us.
She’s pleased.
“Come back.”
Kharvek appears at my side. Blood-drenched, breathing hard, scars still blazing with stolen power. He heard it too. His expression has gone rigid.
“Let me help you realize your potential.”
