Max knew most from her land were snake shifters, but he had never seen his mother’s power, or if she even had the true ability, never having shown them before.
Her bones splintered beneath her skin, twisting at impossible angles, each crack echoing through the room like breaking branches. Flesh peeled back as glistening scales erupted—black as midnight, shimmering as if dipped in oil.
Her form grew, her serpentine eyes locking onto the King with the cold hatred of something ancient, something inhuman. It was horrifying, yet in its horror lay a terrible beauty—something primal, something vengeful.
Max watched, both terrified and awestruck, as the woman he called mother disappeared—replaced by a monstrous serpent that towered above all inside the small room.
And in the blink of an eye, she slithered her entire body around the king’s until all you could see was the top of his head.
Sin went still in Max’s grasp, but watched his mother with the same fear and awe. The only sound in the room was the breaking of every bone in his father’s body.
His screams were muffled against her scales as she kept tightening. She squeezed until his screams were barely whispers, and then, with her fangs glistening, she struck.
Max turned away, unable to watch the inevitable, yet the sickening crunch echoed in the cell.
The sound of retribution.
IV
Cinis
Sin
The queen’s transformation was silent—a ripple of magic that shimmered through the dim light. Droplets trickled down her armor, her eyes hollow and staring at her son’s body.
Sin and Max struggled. Sin felt every muscle scream in protest as she tried to rise. Her legs shook, her knees buckling under the weight of exhaustion. Sin’s gaze drifted to Max, his features twisted in pain as he tried and failed to stand.
His eye, dull with exhaustion, locked onto Oliver, whose faint sobs echoed through the room like a dirge.
Jocelyn came to their aid immediately, looking over their wounds, assessing her gaze over them, as if wondering which wounds were the worst, including those that couldn’t be seen. As if she rendered Gideon’s body a lost cause, coming straight for them.
Jocelyn had known Sin was hurt, but her eyes frantically roamed over Max like she didn’t know where to even start with him.
Sin stared at Max, her heart aching at the silence that had once been filled with his warmth. The emptiness in his eyes as he watched his mother hover over Gideon’s lifeless form shattered something deep inside her. The only child she never had a relationship with, and now never would. The youngest was an infant when she was exiled.
The one she thought might be a brother she never had.
They watched as she crouched down, running her fingers through Gideon’s dark hair. Max opened his mouth, grimacing at the reminder he couldn’t speak.
Max, Sin said softly into his mind.
He whipped his head over, meeting her gaze with a serious expression.
Can you hear me now?She added.
His eye watered.I can.
Sin’s heart pounded as she heard his mental voice for the first time in what felt like forever—I can hear you.
Tears blurred her vision as the barriers between them shattered.
What was that?
I don’t care.
Neither did Sin when his lips met hers. She reached her hand up to cup his cheek, but forgot how brutalized his skin was when he winced. She pulled back, but he grabbed her hand and kept it there. It wasn’t a deep, passionate, disrespectful kiss considering their audience. But it was firm, an unyielding promise.
You’re really here.
