Sloane straightens in my arms, blood still dripping from her nose, her body trembling with exhaustion, but her voice steady when she speaks.
“Thanatos rigged the trial,” she says, and her words carry echoes of the Voice of Lilith, power thrumming beneath each syllable. “Conspired with a scion to eliminate an Original. Violated the very laws he was supposed to uphold.”
The Coven of Crows turns their attention to her.
And in their eyes, I see something I never expected.
Respect.
Chapter Twenty-Five
CRAVE
The weight of their attention is crushing.
Not physically.
Something worse.
It presses against the edges of consciousness, against the boundaries of what a mind, even an immortal one, was meant to comprehend. Five cosmic entities, five Originals who predate civilization itself, all focused on the woman trembling in my arms.
But Sloane doesn’t flinch.
Blood pouring from her nose, her body shaking with exhaustion, her Bloodfire flickers beneath her skin while her reserves burn dangerously low. But she stands tall anyway, chin raised, crimson-gold eyes blazing with defiance that makes something in my chest constrict with pride and terror in equal measure.
Thanatos’ fury rolls across the battlefield in visible waves. Death itself recoils from him, the air growing thick with the weight of every soul he’s ever reaped. His eyes, darker than the void between stars, narrow on Sloane with lethal intent.
“You dare accuseme?” His voice makes reality shudder, each word carrying the finality of an ending written in stone. “I am Thanatos. I am theend. I have existed since the first mortal drew breath. And you, ahumanplaying with powers you barely understand, presume to judge—”
“Silence!” Nyx’s voice cuts through Thanatos’ rage with surgical precision. Not loud, not shouted, stated with authority that makes even an Original pause mid-sentence.
She steps forward, and shadows move with her. Not following, not trailing behind, but movingwithher, as though darkness itself has chosen her as its mistress and bends to her will without question. Her purple eyes glow in the morning light, the only color in a world that’s suddenly rendered in shades of night.
When Nyx’s gaze settles on Sloane, my body reacts on pure instinct. Muscles tighten, weight shifting as I angle myself forward, every protective impulse screaming to put myself between them before something irreversible happens.
Sloane’s hand finds mine. Her fingers lace through with deliberate calm, anchoring me in place before I can move. The contact carries intent as clearly as words ever could.
‘Let them see. Let them judge. I amnotafraid.’
My jaw tightens. I squeeze her hand, a silent warning. I’ve watched Nyx unravel cities. I know what the Originals do when they decide something is a threat that can’t be allowed to exist.
‘You should be.’
Sloane doesn’t pull away. Her grip firms, steady and warm against mine, grounding instead of yielding. She lifts her chin, eyes locked forward, spine straight, unflinching.
‘Maybe. But I’m not.’
The certainty in her answer doesn’t blaze or shout. It settles heavy and unmovable. And for the first time since the Originals appeared, I don’t know whether I want to shield her from what’s coming, or stand beside her and let them witnessexactlywho she is.
Sloane glances at me and winks. Her audacity pulls a small smile from me as we face my former coven.
Nyx stops three feet away, close enough that Sloane has to tilt her head back to meet her eyes. The Original towers over her, ancient and radiating power that makes the air shimmer.
The silence stretches.
Then Nyx does something I never expected.
She smiles.
