He came closer. “You think you suffered because he hated you? No. He knew.You’ve always been poison. Everything you touch withers. He should’ve killed you in your cradle—spared the rest of us this misery.”
Something inside my chest gave way with an audible crack.
“Stop,” I rasped. The sound barely made it past my throat, swallowed by the hissing all around us.
He bared his teeth, eyes blazing. “Weak. Pathetic. Worthless.” His voice scraped raw against the air. “He carved it into your skin, didn’t he? And he was right. Every lash, every bruise—you earned them just like you earned losing Helena, losing Amara, and losing me. You don’t deserve love, Salvatore. You don’t deserve anything but pain.”
His words split the world.
My ears rang. My heartbeat drowned out the hiss of the serpents, the rattle of chains, even the groan of the pit walls around us.
In the dark behind my eyes, the shadows of my father’s fists rose again—his voice striking like a whip,“You think you’re a man? You’re not. You’re a mistake I regret—weak, useless, a name I wish I’d never given.”
Helena’s face followed, cold and pale, lips curling with contempt.
“I loved Julian. Not you. You were nothing but flesh and regret dressed up as love.”
And now Lazarus—my brother, my only anchor—stood above me with their voices in his mouth.
Something in me broke.
The words tore through me like claws, each one opening an old wound that had never truly healed. My vision swam red. The pit fell away; the snakes vanished; all that remained was the echo of those words—“Your father was right to beat you bloody.”
My chest heaved like it was splitting open. The air thickened until it was fire. I could see nothing but Lazarus’ face wearing my father’s sneer.
I lost control.
“STOP!” I roared, my voice shredding itself raw. Spit and blood flew from my lips as I lunged, hammering at him with fists that no longer felt like mine. “You don’t get to say that to me! Not you! NOT YOU!”
The snakes stirred, hissing louder, their bodies writhing to the rhythm of my fury. Their heads rose in unison, tongues tasting our rage.
They began to move—slowly, deliberately—forming two separate currents.
Some slithered toward me, their scales rasping against my legs, wrapping my ankles like shackles. Others coiled around Lazarus, scales glinting in the sick-green light, brushing against his arms, his throat.
They were dividing.
Choosing sides.
The pit came alive—madness and venom, hunger and hate.
And then Severen’s voice seeped down from the black above, as smooth as venom, dripping through every crack in the stone.
“My, my,” he purred, each word a thread of poisoned silk. “I haven’t seen this in centuries… serpents taking sides.”
A heavy clang split the air—two blades hurled into the pit, steel singing like death-bells. The sound pounded through my skull.
Severen’s laughter shredded the space above us, the noise churning the torches until sparks rained like angry insects. “Kill the snakes on your side,” he hissed, “and you’ll live. Fail… and they’ll eat you alive.”
The serpents tightened. Their scales ground against my calves, cold and papery. Their tongues flicked, taste testing the sweat on my skin, tasting the fear that bled from my pores. Their eyes were coals, patient and bright, as though they already knew how the story would end.
Something in me snapped into a hot, animal focus. Rage replaced the cold clutch of terror. I had never felt so ready to kill.
Across the pit, Lazarus met my gaze. Blood streaked his face, his breath ragged. His blade dipped. For a mad second, old bonds flickered like tinder between us. We lunged together—not for one another this time, but at the living tide that sought to braid us into corpses.
Steel bit scales. Flesh parted under iron. Heads thrashed once, twice, then stilled, leaving the air thick with the copper taint of blood and venom. I hacked and drove, as dying serpents slid away in glistening loops. The pit answered with an orchestra of hissing and the wet slap of bodies.
Pain erupted when a serpent struck, fangs sinking into my thigh. Fire lanced through me. I screamed, the sound snatched by the cave, then lashed out, blade tearing through muscle and skull until the creature went limp. Another coiled round my wrist, crushing. I ripped it free with teeth, grit, and a prayer no god would hear.
