She would see it returned.
In one ruthless motion, Elara ripped the ring from his finger and crushed it under her boot.
The ring shattered, fragments scattering. From the broken stone, a wisp of amber light shot out, streaking across the Pit toward Reynnar.
Ivan’s lips twisted into a crooked grin. Osin’s snarl sliced through the air. And then, across the room, flames exploded from Reynnar’s mouth.
The Pit ignited.
Chapter 62
A searing wave of fire ripped through the darkness, consuming every shadow in its path.
Reynnar’s eyes burned like molten embers, each strike was brutal, precise—a tempest of fire sweeping through the Legionnaires, their screams swallowed by the inferno.
Ash and smoke filled the room as he moved, a force of nature incarnate. The ground beneath him blackened with each step, heat radiating from his body in waves that warped the air. His ferocity left no room for mercy, only destruction—pure and uncontained, as if he could raze entire kingdoms with nothing but his wrath.
In the distance, the ground quaked beneath a surge of pounding footsteps. The rhythmic thunder of Osin’s army racing back—summoned by the skittering shadows of their lord.
Elara's stomach flipped as Osin’s eyes flicked to hers, shadows snaking toward her.
But something inside her snapped. The wall she had built so carefully buckled, splintering into shards. Heat surged through her veins—a force untamed and furious as theDraoth Caraflared back to life, burning as if it had always been waiting for this moment to break free.
Her breath hitched as a scorching force spiraled up her spine, coiling tighter with every heartbeat. Her hands lifted, trembling, drawn by the inferno building inside her. Heat rolled off her skin, the air warping around her.
Then she erupted.
Flames tore from her fingertips—wild, searing—devouring everything in their path. A wall of fire roared into being, its heat alive and vicious, cleaving Osin’s shadows apart.
Across the chaos, Reynnar’s gaze caught hers, his chest heaving. Understanding flared between them—wordless, instinctive. She felt the fire in him as if it coursed through her own veins. With Ivan, it had been a steady, measured beat, contained and controlled. But with Reynnar, it was everywhere—a heat that lived, breathed, and burned in every inch of him.
“Elara, open a rift and go!” Ivan’s voice sliced through the roar of flames, his breath ragged, dark vines creeping across his eyes. “I’m still under Osin’s control. The parasite.” He clutched his chest, but a burst of shadows erupted between them.
They sprang apart.
Her body hit the ground hard, the cold floor scraping her skin raw as she rolled. Fingers locked around the hilt of her blade, she pushed herself up, her breaths frantic, her heart pounding like a hammer against her ribs.
The parasite.
That wrongness she’d felt for so long, like a thorn lodged beneath her heart—it was there in every glance they’d shared, every pulse of power he’d tried to teach her to control.
Not in her. It had never been in her.
It was his.
His covenant with Death.
Ivan had been trying to break her binds, to find some way to set herDraothfree, but he couldn’t. Not while that twisted deal held him captive.
Her gaze darted to him across the Pit. Smoke and fire churned in the air, framing his retreating figure in stark, jagged shadows. He was purposely putting distance between them.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"Hunter!" Osin bellowed.
The word cracked through the Pit, lashing off stone. Ivan’s head snapped toward the sound. His movements went rigid, limbs heavy—as if unseen strings had seized him. Slowly, his glaive rose. Step by step, he advanced on Reynnar, each stride grinding into the scorched ground.
Elara’s breath hitched. A cry tore from her throat.
