I’ve felt it.
Every time we touch. Every time he gets close.
Somethingpullsfrom me—warm, rushing, magic—and flows into him like it belongs there.
Beth coughs, blood flecking the floor between us, and I watch her hand twitch toward her side like she’s still deciding if it’s worth trying. Like she still thinks she can come back from this.
“Don’t,” I growl. My voice barely sounds like mine—scraped raw, full of gravel.
She stops again, her lips split, burned cheek already swelling, eye half-closed. But deep down, I want her to move. To fight back. To give meanyreason.
Because if she doesn’t, if she just lies there, broken, then this isn’t justice.
It’s punishment.
And I’m the one delivering it.
Something in me twists, my stomach turns, throat tight and burning. I see my own hands—still raised, still shaking withpower—and for the first time in this fight, I’m not afraid of her, I’m afraid of myself.
I step forward.
Her body jerks back on instinct, it would be so easy. One motion. One command. I could end it right here, clean.
It’s her or me, there are no other options.
She called me, nominated me to die.She chose this,not me.But if I end it... What does that make me?
A shaky twitch runs through my fingers; my Threads stay steady, but my heart rate doesn’t. Pressure builds, pressing hard behind my eyes. And for one sickening second, I see it, what killing her would look like. Her body, slack on the mat. The silence, absolute.
Then—movement behind me. I turn to catch Lucien stepping forward. His eyes catch mine for a split second. No grief, no concern. Not even a flicker of hesitation for Beth. Just…something else. Something that makes the back of my neck go cold. Like he’s already seen how this ends and accepted it. Like he’s waiting for me to catch up. It isn’t a plea. It isn’t mercy. It’s, god, I can’t name it—but it’s there, steady as a heartbeat, urging me on without a word.
A jagged rush erupts inside me as the world funnels into a single, blinding point between us and just like that, the last scrap of doubt in me snaps.
I make the call. I came here for answers. I came here for justice.I choose to live, I choose me.
Power coils. My body shifts to strike?—
But then Beth moves, desperate. Her Threads flare, raw, unstable magic surging out from her broken form in one final effort.
It should hit.
But it doesn’t.
It ricochets behind me.
Backfires.
The surge doubles back and slams straight into her chest. I feel the impact like a clap of thunder. Her body arches once, Threads sparking out in every direction like broken glass.
Then collapses.
Flat. Limp.
Her head hits the mat with a sickening thud.
My magic recedes, slow and stunned. I stagger back half a step, every inch of me thrumming with magic and disbelief.
I just stare at her, Beth, burned and broken, sprawled across the mat.
