The chamber opens into cavernous darkness—sconces on walls illuminate the slick stone floors, their flames dancing with levity like they’re not bearing witness to a ritual that will rebirth Zerynthia.The realms.
Seren kneels, eyes closed in preparation, her hands trembling but steady.
And in the center of it all—bound, bloodied, and furious—Maldrak.
The flesh of his left eye is still scarred and raw from Duskae’s magic, the deep slice across his cheek and the burnt skin of his hand serve as reminders of my survival.
Repulsion blends with hatred, and it all coalesces into the only emotion I’ve ever trusted: vengeance. I stalk toward him, his limbs bound, mouth bleeding, and King Aurius’ zarethite sword hanging from the belt at his hip.
“What in the fucking Stars happened up there?” Teddy grumbles, his axe still gripped tightly in his hand. Always ready.
“That would be my doing,” Ronyn chimes in. “Tarrakai was feeling left out.”
But no one laughs—we’re all staring at Jax.
Her chest heaves with ragged breaths, lost to her own rage.Her own guilt.
Elandor’s chamber in Nymeris crashes through my mind. The crushing guilt Jax felt.
Her sobbed words:I let him into my heart, my body.
Gods—she loved him.
And I can see the way the guilt has festered, eroding her insides until all that’s left is venomous rage.
I’ve hated her.
I’ve resented her constant pessimism.
But I can’t fault her.
Not for this. Not for the way she guards her heart. Her people.
Everything I’ve thought about her flips and reverses instantly. I’ve despised her chronic skepticism, but I see it now for what it is: protection.
Anger for guilt.
Coldness for preservation.
Distance for fear.
For the first time, I understand Jax Dewhirst.
She’s not so different from Kael; hurt and repentant.
She wields a small dagger in her palm, muttering curses and self-deprecating remarks under her breath, tracking up and back across the chamber as if she’s gone mad.
Teddy eyes us warily, as if she’s been doing this for a while.
Kael’s eyes snap to Maldrak, but what he sees is unsettling; a gleefully smiling Maldrak.
The kind of smile a madman wears.
The kind of smile someone with a plan wears.
But Jax doesn’t care.
She moves.
