The same hesitation, the same restraint. He hadn’t held back because he couldn’t feel anything for her—but because he’d harbored this secret all along. His reluctance, his carefully drawn boundaries… they had been a shield, a twisted show of morality, all while knowing exactly what he was complicit in.
But none of that mattered. Whatever guilt he felt now, whatever shame or regret flickered in his eyes—she didn’t care. He was still one of them. One of Osin’s chosen, thriving off the backs of slaves.
Elara’s bellow tore through the air as she channeled every ounce of her fury into the Wound of Light.
Its brilliance exploded, slamming into him and hurling him into the dome. He struck the barrier, rebounded, and hit the ground—and she was on him before he could move. Her knees pinned his sides, the blade pressed hard to his throat.
The power of the blade pulsed through her, lighting her from within—an unceasing flood she couldn’t contain, didn’t want to. Her hands shook, her vision blurred, but she didn’t care. The anger, the betrayal—it all burned, blinding and red-hot.
Ivan looked up at her, his face sedate, not even flinching. A slow, almost admiring smile spread across his lips. He didn’t struggle, didn’t lift a hand in defense. If anything, he looked… content. As if he’d been waiting for this.
"You're resplendent in your rage," he murmured, his hand reaching up to tenderly graze her cheek. “A true force to be reckoned with.”
The blade trembled in Elara’s grip, its edge pressing just enough to nick him. A thin line of blood trickled down his throat.She could end it—one clean slice—and it would be over. Yet, something within her faltered.
Herheart.
Damn her heart. Her stupid, traitorous heart. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t?—
"Drop the barrier."
Osin’s voice sliced through her spiraling thoughts, and she froze, her gaze snapping up to find him standing just outside the dome. Ivan’s eyes flickered shut for a moment before he released the barrier, letting it fall.
Elara’s stomach twisted as her eyes darted around, absorbing the chaos—the Legionnaires pressing forward, the rebels retreating deeper into the Pit.
They were losing.
They were losing, and she’d squandered her chance.
Her gaze locked on Reynnar. He knelt in the blood and grime, face smeared red, eyes still blazing—even in defeat, as if he’d torn through dozens of soldiers before they finally overwhelmed him.
She’d failed him.
“Get up, Hunter,” Osin snarled, his voice like a lash.
Ivan shoved her off, rising slowly to his feet.
Elara’s whole body trembled—rage, betrayal, and a bone-deep exhaustion twisting inside her. She could barely push herself upright, her vision swimming as she looked up at him.
Osin’s lip curled into a dark smile. “Strike her.”
Ivan’s hand hovered at his side, trembling, as if he were battling some invisible force… somecompulsion.
Elara’s eyes widened. Then—his hand cracked across her face. Her head snapped to the side, the metallic taste of blood flooding her mouth.
Behind her, a roar echoed, Reynnar’s voice filled with rage.
“Again.”
Another blow, harder this time, his knuckles connecting with her jaw. The impact sent stars dancing across her vision, her head snapping to the side as she crumpled to the ground. For a moment, the cavern swayed, and she struggled to catch her breath. But then she planted her hands and pushed herself back to her feet.
Her teeth clenched as she glared up at him, blood dripping from her split lip. She spat, the crimson hitting the ground between them.
“Fight it, you bastard!” Reynnar snarled, thrashing against the shadows, constraining him. “What, not man enough to shake off a little curse?Why don’t you bend over, Hunter? Let him?—”
The words cut off with a strangled gasp as Osin’s shadows tightened around Reynnar’s throat. Osin gave a long-suffering sigh, rolling his eyes. “Always with the dramatics.” He shifted his attention to Elara. “No, he can’t resist. And, amusingly enough, we have you to thank for that, Hallowed. I do appreciate the irony.”
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper.“Minva sölk harn,”he said, the words guttural and venomous.
