“She won't remain yours long enough for that.” Kingsley's voice drifted closer; I could imagine him circling the net like a vulture. “I’ll make certain of it.”
A heavy sigh from the headmistress. “You're being dramatic, Kingsley. As always.”
“The cardinal rule was inscribed in blood within the founding contract,” Kingsley grated. “You swore neutrality, Stardust. Or have you forgotten?”
“I have been neutral,” she hissed. “But I will not be a laughingstock because I executed a student over a sexual relationship. I agree to a punishment, but not death.”
“Fine,” Kingsley said after a weighted pause. “Then she will be stripped and whipped publicly, as an example to every other little slut who thinks the rules don't apply.”
“You will not lay your fucking filthy fingers on her,” Nero snarled.
“You’re in no position to bargain, Ravencrux!” Kingsley shot back.
I’d never hated anyone this much. My instincts screamed that his animosity ran deeper than this moment, that he had been my enemy long before I knew to look for one.
While they argued and Nero threw threats, my fingers moved, weaving threads of light and shadow. Nero had helped me discover this magic—this weaver’s gift. Since then, it had grown stronger, flowing through me as naturally as breath. Light manipulation was still new, still emerging, but I hid it within Nero’s shadows as my fingers flexed and twisted. One thread formed, then two, then three.
By the sixth, I knew exactly what was needed. Blood magic—the same power I’d used to escape the well. I brought my thumb to my mouth and bit down. Blood welled, metallic and warm. I touched it to the threads, letting my life blend into the weave.
Nine threads now—light, shadow, and blood woven into an intricate pattern. I pushed them carefully toward the golden net, my movements small and hidden.
My mother had drilled caution into me, teaching me to think before acting. But sometimes, rebellion won. When I had touched the net before, it wasn’t recklessness. I was testing it.
Everything held intent and weakness. This net was forged by the God of Metal, its spells hammered into the gold for a single purpose.
When it first trapped Ares, the God of War had used brute force. Nero was doing the same by ramming his power against it like a battering ram. Weapons and brute force could not break this net.
My threads were not weapons. They were a plea. An explanation. A truth told in blood.
They whispered my story to the net: it had caught the wrong pair. I’d been a virgin before Nero. There had been no other. Its purpose was to trap the unfaithful, but we were not cheaters.
Please, my threads murmured.Release us. You are being used against your purpose.
I could only hope Nero had been with no other woman recently. If he had, my plea would mean nothing.
As my threads merged with the golden mesh, it did not resist. My magic seeped into its primordial weaving, thread by thread. The net tested my blood, read the truth inscribed there, weighed my intent.
Then, before my eyes, the golden threads unraveled into shimmering dust that sparkled and fell, vanishing before they touched the floor.
Chapter
Two
Bloom
Shadows vs Storm
For one long heartbeat, the room held its breath. Everyone stared: Kingsley, the giants, the beast-headed beings, Headmistress Stardust.
Even Nero stilled above me, hellfire flickering in his eyes.
“It’s impossible,” someone whispered. “No one can break Hephaestus’s net.”
“Shut your mouth!” Kingsley barked.
Nero moved, faster than a thought. He hauled me into his arms, wrapping me in his power, his body a shield between me and the invaders. I’d woven shadow with living vines that clothed my nakedness.
In an instant, Nero’s armor appeared, half-covering his shoulders, chest, and thighs.
