Katell’s stomach twisted into a hard knot. This wasn’t a vision of the past.
This was real. It was happening now.
“Poor fools,” Laran mused beside her. “They have no idea the horrors you’re about to unleash upon them.”
Katell’s stomach dropped. The Makhai…
No—by the Moon,no.
Dorias nodded, his expression unreadable. “Have the soldiers ready to set out. Let’s see how the rebels fare against her.” His voice was calm, almost indifferent. “Grab one of the captured slaves—we’ll use his blood to guide her.”
Atticus gave Katell an uneasy look, then with a curt nod stepped out of the tent, vanishing into the blinding sunlight outside.
“Dalmatius is such a loyal follower, don’t you think?” Laran drawled, watching the commander give out orders.
Katell kept her lips pressed shut, refusing to rise to the bait.
“I heard he was your commander,” Laran went on, savouring every word. “That he offered to train you, to tame your magic—like a wild horse that needed to be broken.”
Her fists tightened. “I was dangerous. I needed help.”
“Oh, I’m certain he helped you…in many ways,” Laran said, tilting his head towards her. “And then you walked straight into his little trap.”
A hot rush of anger surged through her veins. “He won’t get away with it.”
Laran’s grin cut sharp. “Won’t he? Tell me, daughter, what will you do against the Undefeated?”
“Whatever it takes,” she snapped, her patience cracking. “I have to?—”
Her words broke off as a servant approached, holding a black helmet. She lowered it over Katell’s head, the polished metal swallowing most of her face until only the abyss of her darkened eyes remained.
The servant stepped back, bowing his head. “She’s ready.”
Katell’s breath hitched. Panic spiked in her chest, clawing to break free.
“Wait, Dorias, stop!” She lunged towards the mirror. “You can’t do this! They’ll be slaughtered!”
But no one heard her. No one even paused.
“DORIAS!”
Her scream went unanswered, lost in the space between realms. Fury surged through her, and she slammed her palm against the mirror. The surface rippled beneath her touch, then returned to darkness.
She spun on Laran, her breath ragged. “Can’t I stop this?”
He didn’t look at her, more interested in the desolate landscape stretching before them. “Well, that depends on you, daughter. Train with me. Let me help you understand where your true power lies.”
Her chest tightened. Dorias’ voice echoed in her head—every false promise, every command masked as care. She’d trusted him once, and he’d not only hurt her, but her people as well.
And now Laran was dangling the same snare…
Her hesitation drew his gaze, and a flash of irritation sparked. “You think I’d betray my own blood? That I’m no better than Dalmatius, who begged for every scrap of power he was given?”
Katell’s throat burned, and she dropped her gaze, unable to meet his eyes. “I don’t even know what I am…” Her tongue darted across dry lips before she whispered, almost to herself, “But I know I don’t want to be a monster.”
Laran’s stare lingered, softened by something unguarded, almost sorrowful. For the briefest instant, the war god seemed less eternal, more human. “Then train with me. Let me show you the power that lies beneath—the power that will help you finally own your destiny.” His tone shifted, coaxing. “I have waitedyears to help you, daughter. Because as your mother always said, ‘Protect the family, no matter what.’”
Katell froze, her breath stalling in her chest. Damocles’ words. They were actually her mother’s. An unexpected warmth stirred within her, tugging at memories long buried: the soft hum of lullabies and the delicate scent of lavender.
