Too close.
I lunge low, dagger flashing up, and feel the sickening split of flesh as the blade sinks between ribs. The guard crumples, blood pooling at my boots—but there’s no time. Another one's already on me. I pivot hard, my blade locking against his, the impact rattling up my arm.
The tunnel is a mess of bodies and steel—no room to maneuver, no light but the guttering torches throwing warped shadows againstthe stone. Every shout, every clash, echoes tenfold, bouncing through the narrow space like a scream that won’t stop.
“On your left!” Ronyn’s voice cuts through the din.
I duck instinctively as a sword whistles past—missing me by a breath before Ronyn’s arrow thuds into the attacker’s throat. He winks at me, another arrow already notched.
“You owe me one, El!”
I shake my head at his levity, slashing through the legs of another guard as he charges.
And then I see him.
Kael.
And gods, it’s terrifying.
He moves like a storm made flesh—silent, merciless, inevitable. Shadowweave lashes from his hands, curling like smoke, dragging guards into the dark before their screams are cut short. His sword gleams under the torchlight, blood-slicked and merciless, carving through armor like paper.
One guard lunges for him—too slow.
Kael sidesteps, shadow tendrils snapping tight around the man’s throat. With a flick of his wrist, the guard’s head jerks back, spine bending at an unnatural angle before the shadows slam him into the tunnel wall with a wet crack.
Blood spatters. Bones break. Kael doesn’t flinch.
Another comes at him from the side—but Kael’s already there, driving a blade upward, straight through the man’s jaw. It pierces through the top of his skull with a sickening crunch before Kael wrenches it free.
His jaw is tight, sweat running down his temple, but his eyes—stormy and wild—are locked onto the chaos like he’s feeding off it.
There’s no hesitation. No mercy.
It’s not the way a man fights. It’s the way a weapon does.
And for a breath, I’m horrified.
But it’s short-lived—because that dark, sharp-edged thing buried deep inside me?
The part I don’t like to look at?
It’s in awe.
Because he’s devastating. Brutal. Beautiful in the way a wildfire is—terrifying and unstoppable.
I don’t want him to stop.
But I see it now—the strain pulling at him. The shadows wrapping the horses above ground are eating him alive. His magic frays at the edges, slipping under the strain of distance—but he won’t let go.
I slice and bend, maiming and tearing through the next wave without thought, the world falls away and only the kill remains; I’m in the killing calm.
And I relish it.
I relish the way the darkness feels when I let it in.
Bursts of bright white light spear through the tunnel, finding their targets with unerring precision. It takes me a moment to register—Jax is wielding my magic.
Bolts of Lightborne magic fire from her fingertips, obliterating guards into nothing more than fine ash.
