Page 157 of The Blood Rites

Above, the moon is reduced to a scrap of light, overpowered by the bolts of lightning now arcing from pillar to pillar. Each strike sends a crack down the old stones, until the whole clearing seems stitched together by flame and sparks. The ground beneath us trembles, then splits, fissures radiating from the wall of fire and carving the clearing into broken pieces.

Kael is crippled. Agony lives in every movement, his jaw set so hard I fear his teeth will shatter.

Vaelis and Nyxen must be fighting on the other side of the fire, but they were both injured.

Atheron watches Kael with indifference. He makes no move to stop him—just allows it, as if he wants Kael close enough to witness whatever comes next.

“Stay where I can see you, Prince,” Atheron says, voice smooth as glass. “All eyes on our little Light Champion.”

Marissa.

She stands before Atheron, withered but not broken. Not yet. Her fingers twitch. She’s breathing shallow, her eyes on me, as if trying to memorise my face. I want to run to her. I want to be brave enough to save her, to sweep her away, but I’m so far out of my depth that all I can do is stand and shake.

Atheron raises his hand.

A controlled burst of flame—just a spark, really—shoots from his fingertips and darts towards Marissa’s face. She raises a trembling arm, and a shield of light flickers into existence, paper-thin, but it holds. The flame scatters across the surface, the embers drifting away harmlessly.

He cocks his head, almost impressed. “Again,” he says.

Another burst, hotter, more insistent.

The shield reappears, but it shudders, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface. Her shield looks different from mine—golden glass, thin and trembling. Marissa holds it, her arms trembling so violently, I can see it from metres away. Sweat pours down her face, stinging at her wounds.

I try to reach for my own Mana to help, but every time I think of channelling, something in my chest seizes up. Guilt? Fear? Or maybe something more insidious.

Kael drags himself closer, only paces away, but he can’t stand. He looks at me, his face hollow and desperate. “Luceris,” he says, and it sounds like a plea.

I can’t answer.

Atheron lets the silence hang. Then, softer, almost to himself, he says, “She learns quickly.”

A third wave of fire—not a burst, but a sustained stream—rolls from his palm. Marissa gathers her light, forming a full dome shield, but it’s thin as gossamer. The fire licks around it, testing for weak spots. The blue glow of the pillars pulses faster, as if feeding on the heat.

Marissa’s shield cracks, and pain ripples through her, but she holds on, chin tucked, eyes never leaving mine.

It’s too much. The pressure builds inside me until I feel like I might split in half.

“Take me!” I scream at Atheron. “Stop this. Please. Just—take me!”

Below me, Kael makes a broken sound. “No.”

Atheron only laughs. Cruel. Bored. “No,” he says simply, as if I’m a child asking for more supper. “Your time will come.”

The Overseers move in unison, every head turning towards Marissa. Their masks reflect the fire, the fractures in their faces momentarily catching blue and orange. They begin to hum, low and meditative. It sounds like bees trapped in a jar.

Atheron launches another wave at Marissa. This time, the fire comes in pulses, hammering at her shield in rhythm. She brings both arms up to brace it, her body bending backwards under the force.

A fissure in the ground opens beneath her, splitting the ground into two grassy ledges. She loses her balance, toppling sideways. The shield flickers out, the fire singeing her sleeve before she can get out of the way. She shrieks, but instead of crumbling, she pushes herself upright, both hands pressing into the earth.

Atheron paces behind her, never touching, always just two steps away.

“Very good,” he says, voice almost gentle. “But you’re still nothing.”

She spits at him, the blood bright on her teeth. “You’re the one who’s empty.”

He smirks. “Still some bite, I see.”

She looks up at me. “I’m not afraid.”