He slammed into the real Adrian from the side with brutal force, driving them both into the dirt. The syringe flew from Adrian’s hand. Caelum’s grip locked around his throat, slamming him into the ground again and again, Dominion power rolling off him in crushing waves that made the air feel heavy.
“You really thought I wouldn’t notice?” Caelum’s voice was low. Calm. Terrifying.
Adrian laughed, breathless, blood on histeeth. “Did you?”
The air warped again. Veilcraft surged stronger—duplicates lunging from every direction, knives flashing, fists swinging. Caelum answered with raw Dominion, the pressure intensifying until the ground groaned and the trees creaked. He dodged and retaliated, sending Adrian flying into a tree with a crack of bark. Adrian sent another wave of illusions swarming him.
The illusions flickered. Adrian found the weak moment—Caelum’s focus shifting to shield Lyra from a lunging duplicate. A real strike slipped through. Adrian’s fist connected with Caelum’s jaw. Blood sprayed. Caelum staggered.
Lyra stood frozen, knife clutched in her blood-slick hand, watching the two men who had both claimed to want her—one to own her, one to sell her—circle each other like predators. She didn’t know whom to help. She didn’t know whom to run from. The world had narrowed to the sound of their breathing, the crunch of leaves, the low hum of clashing magic that tasted like ozone and blood.
She willed her Null powers to dim their chaos, but nothing came.
The needle drove into Caelum’s side.
For a moment—nothing.
Then Caelum stilled. His grip loosened, just slightly.
Adrian tore free, scrambling back. His hand closed around a jagged rock from the forest floor—heavy, sharp-edged, large enough to crush a skull. He rose, staggering but grinning, eyes wild with triumph.
“Not so untouchable now, are you—”
Lyra screamed.
She didn’t know if it was for Caelum or against him.
Adrian turned toward her, eyes gleaming. “This was always going to end with you in chains, Lyra. One way or another.”
He lunged forward to crush Caelum’s skull.
Lyra moved without thinking.
The knife was already in her hand.
She drove it forward.
The blade sank deep—clean—straight into Adrian’s throat.
His eyes widened in shock. His hand came up, not to stop her, but to touch her wrist. Not anger. Not fear. Just… recognition.
“Of course,” he rasped.
Then nothing.
The rock fell from his fingers. His body followed.
* * *
Silence crashed down around them. The woods held their breath.
Lyra stood there, shaking violently, the knife still buried in him, her hand locked around the hilt. Her chest rose and fell too fast, vision blurring with tears she could no longer hold back.
“I didn’t—” Her voice broke, raw and frantic. “I didn’t mean— Adrian, please— wake up—”
She dropped to her knees beside him, hands slick with blood, frantically searching his pockets for the antidote vial she knew had to be there. The silence was too loud—only her own frantic cries, the wet sound of her hands tearing through his cloak, the distant rustle of leaves.
“Where is it— where is the antidote— please, Adrian, I didn’t— I was trying to save him— I didn’t want this—”
