I release a shaking breath. He’s alive! Thank the gods!
Mylo hauls Dante over his shoulder, staggering under the weight but refusing to falter. My heart lodges in my throat at the sight of Dante limp and unmoving.
“Go, go, go!” Aila shouts, parrying a sword strike with her good hand. One arm dangles uselessly, bruised and bloodied, yet she still drives forward.
A guard barrels toward Mylo’s unprotected side, blade raised for the killing blow. Aila intercepts, steel flashing as she hacks clean through the man’s leg. The guard collapses with a howl, and Aila limps past, eyes blazing.
“Saving your ass again, Commander,” she calls hoarsely.
“About time,” Mylo grunts, adjusting his hold on Dante’s slack body.
A bolt whistles past my ear—Isaac, calm as ever amid the chaos,reloading in a blink before dropping another carnoraxis mid-charge. Beside him, Lorne plows through two guards at once, his sword cleaving a brutal arc that sends them sprawling in a spray of blood. Their violence clears just enough space for us to breathe.
Across the arena, my uncle’s eyes find mine. Just a flicker—his face as hard as granite, his sword dripping red—but the weight of that look roots me to the ground. Fierce. Proud. As if reminding me I’m not alone, even here.
Giorgi plants themself in the gap, blade flashing, blood streaking their cheek. “This way,” they bark. “But it won’t stay clear for long. Move.”
I glance up at the balcony in time to see the seer’s red cloak vanish into shadow. The tsar is already gone.
Fucking cowards.
A carnoraxis lunges at me, its claws slashing across my arm and ribs. Pain explodes hot and sharp. I stagger, blood soaking my dress. Desperate, I shove my magic out, and the creature is hurled back by a crackling force. But another pounces before I can recover, its jaws snapping for my face, its weight crushing me to the ground.
Sir Donovan’s blade flashes, carving into its side. He shoves his shield between me and the beast, teeth bared. “Run!” he roars.
I scramble free, but he stays, holding the line. The carnoraxis pile onto him. He fights like a storm—shield smashing, blade cutting, blood flying—until one sinks its teeth into his throat.
“No!” My scream tears my chest raw. Power surges uncontrolled, bursting from me in a shockwave that blasts every carnoraxis back. The pit trembles with it. But it’s too late.
Sir Donovan shudders, blood pulsing from his throat, and then lies still.
My body shakes violently, blood dripping from my wounds, fury and grief warring in me. There’s no time. There’s no time.
I grab Nadya’s wrist and pull her, dragging her along as we run. Firelight catches her curls, streaking her smoke-stained skin. Her mouth is set, eyes wild.
“Are you okay?” I shout.
She nods, panting. “I think so.”
She lifts a trembling hand, magic rippling over us like a veil. The world blurs. Sound is muffled. Shadows press in tighter around us. She’s cloaking us, but I know it won’t hold for long.
The squad pushes through the exit, Mylo carrying Dante’s dead weight, Aila staggering with her blade, Giorgi carving a path. Sir Holden covers our rear, blade flashing as he snarls at the beasts snapping at his heels.
We bolt through the corridors beyond the arena, feet pounding cold stone, and as expected, Nadya’s cloaking spell gives out. The din of battle grows behind us—distant now, dulled by walls, smoke, blood.
We’re not safe yet, but we’re moving. And we’re alive.
Through the chaos, I haven’t had a chance to let it sink in—my uncle is here. The sight of him hits me all at once, a rush of fierce relief that he’s all right, that he came for me… tangled with a sharp edge of fear. He shouldn’t be here, not after what happened to him. He looks too pale in the moonlight, too worn, and yet he stands unyielding, as if nothing could break him. My chest tightens until it aches. He’s here, and I don’t know whether to weep with gratitude or beg him to turn back before it’s too late.
“You’re here,” I breathe.
Uncle Kormak wastes no time in answering—just pulls me into a crushing hug.
For a second, I forget to breathe.
“I had to come,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “Dante said you were taken.” His hand cups the back of my head. “I couldn’t let him hurt you.”
I lean into him for one breath, one heartbeat. “You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper. “Not after what he did to you.”
