"The battle's not over." I meet his eyes, trying to focus through the agony. "Your soldiers need you. Finish this."
For a moment, I think he'll refuse. But then he leans down, pressing his forehead briefly to mine—a gesture so tender it steals what little breath I have left.
"I'll be back soon," he murmurs.
"I know." I manage something that might be a smile. "Go be terrifying."
He leaves, and I close my eyes as Banu's magic knits bone back together with agonizing care. Other healers cluster around, their voices a distant murmur as darkness pulls at the edges of my consciousness.
Father is dead. Zoran killed him. The Light Court is broken.
It's over.
The thought repeats itself like a prayer as Banu's healing magic pulls me under, and for the first time in months, I let myself believe it might actually be true.
CHAPTER 38
VICTORY AND REVELATION
Kaan
Blood,darkness, and the scent of death. My natural habitat.
I stand in the center of Kan Vadisi, shadows bleeding from my skin like living nightmares, gorging themselves on the carnage around us. The battlefield has become a slaughterhouse, just as I intended. My shadows tear through Light Court soldiers, ribbons of darkness slicing through armor, flesh, and bone with equal ease.
"Behind you!" Emir shouts.
I don't turn—don't need to. My shadows react before the warning fully leaves his lips, coalescing into a jagged spear that impales the Light Court soldier who thought to take my head. The man's scream dies in his throat as darkness pierces his chest, lifting him from the ground. Blood sprays in an elegant arc, painting the battlefield in fresh crimson.
"I had him," I say, finally glancing back at my general.
Emir, blood-splattered and grim, rolls his eyes. "Of course you did, my lord. You clearly have the entire battlefield undercontrol, which explains why that archer nearly put an arrow through your skull five minutes ago."
"I allowed that to happen," I reply, tearing my shadows free from the corpse, which falls to the ground with a wet thud. "It builds character."
"Yours or mine?" Emir dispatches another soldier with a clean slash across the throat, barely breaking stride as he moves to my side.
"Both. Though mainly mine. Yours is already too grim for improvement."
Around us, the battle rages with newfound intensity. We've been fighting for hours, the ground beneath our feet so saturated with blood it has become treacherously slick. The air hums with magic—shadow, light, and elemental forces colliding in explosions that shake the earth. But for all the chaos, I sense the shift in momentum. The Light Court forces are faltering.
Their banner still flies in the distance, but their front line has collapsed under the relentless assault of my shadow legions. I ordered them to take no prisoners, to show no mercy. This is not a battle for territory or resources—this is a message written in blood and bone: The Shadow Court will not be challenged.
"Where's Zoran?" I ask, scanning the battlefield for Nesilhan's brother.
"Last I saw, he was leading the eastern flank against another commander," Emir replies, decapitating an advancing soldier. "He seems... different since killing his father."
"Patricide changes a man." I watch as my shadows form a wave that crashes over a group of Light Court soldiers, their golden shields buckling under the onslaught. "Though in this case, Taren deserved worse than a quick death for what he did to our son."
"Still," Emir's voice softens slightly, "to strike down your own blood?—"
"Is exactly what I'd do if my father returned from whatever hell claimed him," I cut him off, my tone leaving no room for debate. "Zoran did what was necessary to save Nesilhan. He'll recover, or he won't. Either way, we have a battle to win."
A horn blares from the eastern ridge—three short blasts followed by one long note. Our signal that the Light Court's right flank has broken.
"Speak of the devil," I mutter.
Through the chaos, I spot Zoran cutting his way toward us, his usually pristine armor now dented and blood-soaked. His face is a mask of controlled rage and his movements are mechanical. The death of his father has left its mark, but it has also unlocked something in him—a brutality I'd never seen during his time in the Shadow Court.
