Page 32 of The Blood Rites

“Oh, I think I know enough, Prince.” Atheron’s smile widens, teeth glinting beneath the lights. “This is not my first dance with the Mother Shard. I’ve seen stronger men than you crumble here.” His voice lowers. “You’ll fall like the rest.”

The Fireborn standing behind him snicker softly.

I can’t understand how any of them can laugh here. We stand inside the Mother Shard itself, surrounded by Overseers murmuring prayers about sacrifice like death has already made its choice.

Bright Mother, see us. Bright Mother, claim us.

The sound crawls beneath my skin.

Atheron’s gaze slides towards me again, dismissive and cold.

“But by all means,” he says to Kael, “claim yourself an easy target.” His lip curls faintly. “Have your little rabbit.”

Heat floods my face instantly.

“You’ll all die in the end anyway.”

Then he turns and walks away, the other Fireborn trailing after him without hesitation.

The tension in the Dome eases slightly once he leaves, though it never fully disappears. Kael barely reacts at all.

“Come,” he says to the other Shadowborn. “Nyxen. Vaelis.”

As though none of this mattered. As though he did not just announce ownership over me in front of half the Dome. The irritation finally wins.

“What did you mean?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Kael glances back. Those dark eyes settle on me fully again, and my pulse immediately betrays me.

“When you said I was yours.”

A faint smirk touches the corner of his mouth.

“Exactly what I said, little rabbit.”

“Don’t call me that.”

The sharpness in my voice surprises even me.

Mana stirs beneath my skin in immediate response, restless and hot, pressing against the restraints I keep wrapped tightly around it at all times. I force myself to breathe before it can rise any further.

“That Fireborn already called me that once,” I say, struggling to keep my composure. “I don’t need another arrogant bastard repeating it.”

Something unreadable flickers across Kael’s face. Gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

“Men,” I mutter bitterly. “Boys. You’re all the same.”

“Monsters?” he asks dryly.

Then he steps closer, unhurried and deliberate enough that I have time to step back if I want to. I don’t.

The heat coming off him hits me first. Sweat, steel, something darker beneath it that makes my stomach tighten unexpectedly. My body reacts before my mind catches up, awareness sliding low and dangerous through me.

“Well?” he asks quietly. “What else would you have us be?”

The question settles heavily between us because we both know the answer already. This place was built for slaughter, and only one of us survives.

The thought hollows something out inside me. Fear coils tighter in my stomach, tangled with the memory of blood on a bridge and a body turning to ash before my eyes.