Darian let out a breath, more sigh than air. “That tracks. This one… it’s up to you if you want to see it. But fair warning, it’s not pretty.”
I hesitated.
Every instinct in me told me to put the box down. To walk away. That whatever was locked in this had carved its way into Darian and never left.
But he was offering it to me. And if he trusted me with this, I didn’t want to look away.
I reached for the orb. It pulsed faintly in my palm. I braced myself as best I could. The world tilted, and the room vanished.
I was dropped into hell.
The scent of burnt earth filled my nose, heavy and choking. The sky above was blackened with storm clouds, sizzling with energy that made my skin prickle.
Darian stood in the centre of it. He looked the same, but his eyes were hard in a way I’d never seen before. His clenched jaw tight as he stood among his soldiers, Luceren fae, poised but uncertain. They hadn’t drawn their weapons yet. Hadn’t realised.
Not untilhestepped into view.
The male on the opposite side of the field didn’t walk. He prowled. Confident. Lethal. His hair, dark as midnight, fell in wild waves around his face. His features were almost too beautiful to be real, until you looked closer and saw the cruelty etched into every line of him. His skin was burnished bronze, gleaming faintly beneath the stormy sky. Power rolled off him in waves. He was grinning.
Lightning cracked across the sky.
A dozen soldiers dropped instantly, bodies contorting, smoke rising from their armour as they hit the ground without ever lifting a blade. The rest of the Luceren forces shouted, panic igniting, weapons finally drawn. But it was too late.
I could barely track the male’s movement. One second, he was across the field, the next he wasinit. Lightning arced from his fingers, from the sky, from the blades that danced through the air. Death followed in his wake like a loyal hound.
Warriors fought fiercely, desperately. But it wasn’t enough.
Then it was just Darian and the male. They faced off in the carnage, blades clashing. But the male wasn’t rushed. He wasn’t panicked. He wasplaying. As though Darian was nothing more than entertainment.
And then,gods.
His sword drove straight through Darian’s chest.
I screamed.
And I felt it. The jagged, searing shock that tore through him as the blade sank deep. His body buckled, knees hitting the ground. Blood poured from his chest, fast, so fast, soaking into the earth in pulsing waves. His hands clawed at the wound as if he could hold the pieces of himself together if he just pressed hard enough. Each rasping breath was a struggle, a wet rattle that shuddered through the air and scraped down my spine.
I could feel the pain as if it was my own. The world splintered open beneath my feet.
The male was still grinning when wrenched the blade free and stepped back, casual as anything. As if it hadn’t meant a thing.
Muscles spasmed. Fingers curled. Darian’s back arched with agony before he crumpled forward, strength abandoning him in an instant.
And everything went dark.
I jolted back into the chamber.
My breath came ragged, chest rising and falling too fast. My hands trembled in my lap. Tears slid down my cheeks without my permission.
Darian wasn’t looking. He stood by the window now, back half-turned, one hand braced on the stone ledge.
Finally, he spoke, cautious, almost like he didn’t trust his own voice. “Forty-five soldiers were with me that day.”
The weight of it sat in my throat, unmoving.
He didn’t turn. “Good males. Friends. The kind you’d trust to have your back in battle. The kind who’d take a blade for you without hesitation.”
He swallowed hard, as though the next words refused to be spoken.
