“Jax,” I mutter, already regretting this.
He leans against one of the gates, clad in tailored black with silver runes stitched along the hem; a mockery of our bloodline’s formal wear. His eyes gleam red, cruel and too curious. “Word spreads fast, little brother. Thought you’d be licking your wounds from the veil breech.”
“Still might after I take care of you,” I say flatly. “If you’re here to take a swing, try harder than last time, I'm still not weaker than you.”
“Oh, I will.” He chuckles. It’s icy and joyless like him. “Did you come here for answers? Or absolution?”
I ignore him and move to pass.
He’s in front of me in a blink, blocking the gate. Shadow stepping and throwing his glamour into my path. “Don’t pretend I don’t see it. Whatever she did to you—it’s leaking through your skin. That softness.” He drags the word out like it tastes rotten. “It’sdisgusting.”
“Move,” I command.
Jax leans in, whispering now. “You think Father doesn’t know? You think he won’t rip her name from your skull if he senses what you’re hiding?” His smile turns wolfish. “You’re slipping, Kael. And when you fall…I’ll be right there to take your place.”
My shadows flare, hungry and furious, ready to tear him to pieces.
He grins wider. “There he is. That’s the Kael you were raised to be. The little monster made in Father's image.”
“I’m not here to seehim,” I growl. “I’m looking for Azrael.”
That finally makes his smile falter. “Azrael?” he repeats, mockingly cautious. “The old traitor still breathes?”
“If he does I’ll find him,” I say, stepping through Jax ’s thrown glamour like it’s smoke, his shadow self disappears. “And if you follow me, I’ll make sure you don’t.”
His laughter follows me through the gate, but he doesn’t stop me. He won’t. Not yet. He likes to watch things fall apart slowly. And that is definitely what I’m currently doing.
The inner halls of the Court are carved into the mountain—dark stone veined with glowing silver runes, the air thick with power and pressure. My boots echo across the obsidian flooras I descend deeper, searching for the one person who might understand what’s happening.
Azrael was once my mentor. My teacher. The only one who warned me that sometimes the prophecylies…and that sometimes, the worst monsters aren’t the ones we're sent to kill.
My father banished him to the deepest levels of this hellhole when he failed to carry out a mission he was sent on. Not much different than mine actually. If he’s still alive, he’ll remember the prophecy, he’ll know what to do with Lindsay.
And if he’s not…I’m more alone than I thought.
TWO
NOLAN
Pain isthe first thing I feel. A deep, aching throb that lives in my bones and breathes with me. Weakness is the second. It makes the simple act of breathing feel like a task I'm not up for.
My eyes crack open to low light and stone ceilings. The infirmary.
I try to sit up, but the second I move, a spike of pain shoots through my side and burrows under my ribs. My breath catches. Everything feels…off.
My limbs are heavy, my magic flickers when I reach for it—dim and distant. As though something else is layered on top of it preventing me from touching it.
I shift again, slower this time, and catch sight of the gauze wrapping my wrists and hands. Bloodstained. What the hell happened to me?
No—what happened to her?
Memory slams into me.
The Veil breach. Lindsay in the center of it. Light and chaos and power tearing out of her like a living nightmare, channeling through me, making mine stronger than it has ever been. The way the magic pulled—not just out, but in, as if it was choosing her for something big.
I exhale shakily.
I already knew it, but she’s not just human. Not anymore. Maybe she never was. There has never been a record of a mortal having the kind of power she has. Sure, there are a few that have distant Fae, Fang, Bone, or Blood in their family tree and it breaks through, but this is more. Different.
