“The next challenge won’t happen until after theBleeding Moon Ball,” he interrupts. “I was told it’s held around the red moon’s waning. The gods don’t favor that time, too much blood in the sky, they say. It’s ill luck to attempt anything important beneath its crimson glow. So the Sphere will wait.”
I go still, my body sinking as his words settle over me. I should feel relief, maybe even gratitude, but instead, that familiar disquiet curls around my ribs, the same restlessness that always comes with the Bleeding Moon. Kaelzar watches me closely, his brow furrowing as if puzzled by my reaction.
“You’ll have enough time to heal and prepare,” he adds, studying me. “You should be pleased.”
A bitter smile ghosts across my lips.
“In two weeks, it’ll be my twenty-first birthday,” I murmur. “The third time the Bleeding Moon has fallen on it. I’m starting to feel like being born under it is just another curse I can’t escape.”
“So the Ball will fall on the day of your celebration?” Kaelzar asks. “Then that’s all the more reason to revel. With your Blood Magic, you could be healed long before the festivities begin.”
“I don’t have any left,” I grumble, spreading my arms to show the bandages covering me, then wincing at the pain the foolish gesture causes.
Kaelzar blinks. “Not now, but once you’re fully rested, we?—”
“No.” I cut him off, catching where this is headed. A log snaps in the fire, the sudden pop echoing through the room. “I’m not killing anyone else.”
He opens his mouth to argue, but I don’t let him. “I’m awake now. Take me back to Viele and I’ll see a healer. As you said, two weeks should be enough to heal naturally.”
Kaelzar’s expression hardens. “It’s not just your wounds that concern me. Your magic, your Godbound thread, is expanding rapidly. If you refuse to use it, there could be devastating consequences.”
Eva’s words come back to me.When more people pray to the Goddess, the connection—the thread—widens.
An image flashes in my mind. A block of thick chocolate. A steaming cup of tea. The moment the heat touches it, the chocolate meltsinstantly, widening the tunnel.
My pulse pounds in my ears. More people must be praying to Calista now. That means my power is growing. It means I have an edge in the Challenges.
It means I could win.
A dark thrill ripples through me. And with it, the magic inside me shifts and writhes. A pressure, an itch, crawling under my skin, but my excitement extinguishes just as quickly.
My expanding reserve of magic will only help me win if I use that magic to decay. And I just can’t risk letting it out again. Enough people had died by my hand.
Eva’s warning rings in my ears. If too much magic enters without being used, it festers. It corrupts. It creates something monstrous.
I barely manage to choke out the words. “What… what happens if I don’t use it?” I know the answer, but I have to ask anyway.
Kaelzar’s voice is almost gentle. “Decay magic is… relentless. It devours. It forces rebirth through annihilation. Locked away, it turns inward. And when it breaks free, it won’t come back whole. And when it finally escapes, part of it won’t return as what it once was. It will be a shadow of its own hunger, twisted by the dark it was caged in.”
“Is that what happened to Calista?” The words slip out before I can stop them. I bite my lip, realizing too late I shouldn’t have asked. “You don’t have to answer,” I add quickly, willing the rolling magic within me to settle.
He shakes his head, a small, almost sorrowful movement. “Not as long as I’ve known her. Maybe, when she was young and her powers were new.”
“Young? Gods can be young?” I scoff at the thought, but something about it unsettles me. If they are born and die like mortals, what truly makes them gods? And if we, the Champions, wield their power now… what does that make us?
“I wouldn’t know much about the past,” Kaelzar says. “My people were never allowed to leave the forest or learn Elysium’s history or lore. Everything I know comes from what she told me.”
The ache in my side flares, pulling a wince from me before I canchase the thought any further. “Enough questions for tonight,” Kaelzar says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You should eat.”
I bite back my frustration at his blatant attempt to shut me up, right as my stomach betrays me with a loud growl that echoes through the quiet room.
Kaelzar strides to the corner, where a tray of food waits.
A dark blob of shadow fading beneath a bowl of steaming soup, likely the remnant of a fire’s shadow he used to heat it, with cheese and bread beside it. Kaelzar picks it up and carries it to the bed, sitting at the edge without waiting for permission. He places the tray on the nightstand, then shifts, leaning over me. His hands move on either side of my head.
My pulse hammers, so loud I swear he can hear it.
He’s adjusting my pillow, and the movement brings him close… so close.
