Lazarus dropped to the stone floor, chest heaving, skin turned gray. He didn’t speak. He didn’t thank me. He just looked at me, eyes burning with something worse than rage.
And then I saw it.
My blade was still raised.
Torchlight licked along the steel. My arm trembled. My blood boiled with venom. Lazarus lay at my feet, bloodied, broken—but alive.
His mouth twisted into a sneer. “Do it,” he rasped. “Kill me, Salvatore. Like you’ve killed everything else. My mother. Orin. Rian. Helena. Even your own father. Everything you touch dies. You’re a monster. So, finish it.”
“I never killed my father,” I spat. “No matter how much I wanted to. No matter how many nights I dreamed of crushing his skull. I let him live, and instead another bastard did the job for me, maybe that was my greatest mistake.”
Above us, Severen’s voice spilled through the pit like poison, thick and suffocating.
“Kill him, Salvatore,” he whispered, every word slick with delight. “Spill his blood and you will be crowned the next Shadow Lord.”
My jaw clenched. My teeth ground until I tasted iron. I glared up into the dark where his laughter coiled like smoke.
“You want me to kill your own son?”
Severen’s laugh cracked through the chamber, the chains overhead rattling like bones on hooks.
“Son,” he hissed. “Blood is nothing. Power is everything. Drive your blade in and end him, Salvatore. Show me you can be ruthless.”
I looked down.
Lazarus’ chest rose and fell in ragged jerks. Every breath looked painful. His eyes met mine—daring me to do it, daring me to prove him right.
The sword felt heavy. The venom burned through me, whispering“Kill him, kill him, kill him.”
And then the truth ripped itself out of me, broken.
“I could never kill you, Lazarus,” I said. My voice was barely human. “Because I have always loved you.”
The words hit the pit like a curse.
For one heartbeat, the whole world stopped breathing.
Even the shadows recoiled, as if disgusted.
Then Lazarus’ voice split the silence—ragged, sharp enough to tear the air.
“Don’t you dare say that.”
The blade hovered above his chest, shaking. My throat burned as I forced the words out anyway.
“I love you, Lazarus. More than a brother. More than anything. I thought… maybe one day, you’d see me.”
His face twisted. Something feral and terrible flashed behind his eyes. Hatred carved itself into every line of his face. His voice, when it came, was low and venomous—each word shaped to wound.
“You don’t love me, Salvatore. You never fucking did. You fed on me. You bled me dry. You chained me to your misery and called it brotherhood. You dragged me into this pit because you couldn’t suffer alone. That’s not love—it’s a prison.”
He rose, slow, shaking, his breath ragged.
“You wanted me broken, just like you—a dog on your leash. You didn’t just ruin my life—you fuckingenjoyedit.
“You’re filth, Salvatore. Worthless. Every lash, every bruise, every betrayal—you earned them. You deserve hatred. You will never be wanted. That is your fate.”
The words didn’t cut—they gutted. They peeled me open, left me hollow, raw, shaking. My chest caved in around the sound of his voice.
