Page 103 of She Who Holds My Wrath

He lifts Maelkar one-handed as if he weighs nothing at all, void-black fire crawling hungrily up his arms as he holds him suspended in the air. Maelkar claws at his wrist, eyes widening as he struggles to breathe.

“You think this is funny?” Korithax snarls, leaning down, smoke spilling from his mouth with every word. “You think you get to touch what’s mine?”

Maelkar chokes out a laugh, even now. “Gods… you really came back unhinged, didn’t you?”

Gods damn him, he really needs to learn to shut his mouth. The black fire surges, writhing like something alive. And I feel it. It’s not him. It’s The Void inside him—pushing, whispering, ravenous for violence. Feeding on jealousy and fear and possession.

“No. No, no, no,” I gasp, scrambling off the bed and stumbling forwards as my legs tangle in the sheets. “Kori, look at me. LOOK. AT. ME!”

He doesn’t. Instead, his grip tightens as Maelkar’s feet scrape frantically against the floor, his hands locked around Korithax’s wrist as his face darkens with the lack of air. His eyes are blazing, but his breath is failing quickly.

“You don’t get to have her,” Korithax continues, voice quivering with rage. “You don’t get to be here. You don’t get to exist near her.”

Panic explodes through me and I move before I can think better of it.

“Korithax!” I throw myself between them, pressing both hands flat against his chest. The heat pouring off him is relentless, yet it doesn’t burn.

“It’s not like that,” I choke out. “Nothing happened. I couldn’t sleep. I just—I needed someone. I needed grounding.”

For a moment, just one, tiny moment, The Void hesitates. I see it in the way the fire falters. His eyes flicker, and pain flashes across his features.

“Kori,” I whisper, voice breaking apart. “Please.”

The bond pulses violently, agony flaring sharp enough through my chest to make me gasp. His suffering crashes into me through the tether—grief, terror, possessiveness, shame, The Void gnawing at every wound it can find. Slowly, so slowly it’s agonising, his fingers begin to uncurl.

Maelkar drops to the floor in a heavy heap, coughing wetly as he drags air into his battered lungs. He rolls onto his side clutching his throat, the small sliver of shadows returning snapping around him like protective teeth. Korithax staggers back a step, his chest heaving as black smoke pours from him like he’s burning from the inside out. He stares down at his hands as though they belong to a stranger.

“I—” His voice cracks. “I saw you. In his bed. I felt it and⁠—”

“And you lost control,” I snap, the fear of losing Maelkar sharpening my words. “You almost killed him, Korithax!”

His head jerks up and the look on his face nearly drops me to my knees. Gods. It’s horror and shame, but something feral is still fighting underneath it all.

“I thought I lost you again,” he says hoarsely. “I thought The Void was right. That I was already too late.”

My knees shake as the adrenaline drains away slowly. Behind me, Maelkar groans and forces himself upright, rubbing at his throat with a murderous sheen to his eyes.

“Next time,” he rasps, glaring up at Korithax, “try knocking before you go full demon-king.”

Korithax doesn’t look at him, he looks at me. But staring back at him, I’m not sure if I recognise what’s standing in front of me at all.

Chapter 36

KORITHAX

Ican’t stand to look at her any longer.

She looks hurt, she looks angry, but even more than that, she looks afraid of me. I’d never harm her, never. But I just almost killed Maelkar for simply being her shoulder to lean on.

She’s sitting on the edge of his bed, wrapped in silk that still smells like us, knees drawn to her chest, staring at the floor like it might be able to offer her answers neither of us want to voice. Her hair is loose, tangled from sleep she couldn’t get beside me. She looks exhausted, and it’s my fault.

I turn away before the thought can dig any deeper, before The Void seizes it and twists it into something else entirely—something darker that sends me over that brutal edge I struggle to return from. The room feels too small, too quiet. Every breath I take feels like it echoes wrong, like the walls themselves are bracing themselves for me to lose my mind once more.

I leave the room without saying a word, slamming the door behind me.

The corridor outside is cold, made up of dark stone and torchlight. It’s so familiar yet feels so far from what it used to be. Zeriavoss has always answered to me. Its wards humming, its magic recognising my presence like a loyal hound. But now, it recoils.

Torches gutter as I pass, sigils dim, and power bends away from me, not in fear, but in instinct. Like the world itself knows I’m not the same thing that left it three months ago.