The word scraped down my spine like a match catching—the same voice, the same word,from that day in the square when the world had gone still around me and Hayat’s hand hadn’t reached fast enough.
Malachi’s voice was low. “Do I know you?”
The man’s amusement flickered brighter. “Some beings weren’t born of worship. They were born of consequence. Surely you know your Creator, General?”
A ripple passed through the square. Not fear—recognition, maybe. The word felt old, heavy, like something I’d heard once in a dream and forgotten on purpose.
Beside me, Malachi went still. His jaw locked, a muscle feathering once before stilling again.
The cloaked man’s attention shifted—slowly, deliberately—toward me. Draven noticed the turn of his head. His smile sharpened, eager to insert himself into a conversation he didn’t understand.
“Ah yes,” Draven said, tone cutting, “the girl. She’s of no consequence.”
The cloaked man didn’t even blink. His gaze stayed on me. “Oh,” he said softly, with a smile that wasn’t kind. “I think she very much is.”
Cold gathered beneath my ribs. His stare crawled over me like he was memorizing the shape of my fear. Heat crept up my throat. I looked down, forcing my breath steady. Draven’s presence had already been too much—dredging up memories of my parents, their torture—but this felt worse.
“Pity you won’t be here for your brother’s ceremony, Aurelia.” Draven again. His voice slick with satisfaction.
My head snapped up. The words struck like bone splintering.
“What did you say?” My voice came low, dangerous. Thestranger still watched me, as though he could taste the crack of fear that followed. Malachi shifted closer.
Draven’s eyes glinted, relishing the moment. “Your Aeryn came of age, did he not? He’ll stand at the altars and willingly bow his head.” His mouth curved, cruel. The world tilted.
“Under what terms,” I spat. “You don’t make deals without cost. What did you take from him?”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Draven only tipped his head, pleased with the spectacle. “What you couldn’t. Who could refuse the promise of a quiet mind?”
The stranger’s smile didn’t fade. “Promises,” he said. “They’re such lovely lies.”
The realization struck cold. I was too late. I hadn’t lost Aeryn to himself. I was going to lose him to them.
“I won’t allow it,” I said finally.
“It isn’t your decision to make. He agreed, happy to use the Moirae line for good. No coercion. He was eager. The nice thing about a weak mind is how easily it bends. And you—” his gaze flicked to the scar he had helped carve into me—“you were sealed long ago. Already broken.”
Rage cracked open inside me. The ground trembled with it, air splitting sharp in my lungs.
Shadows poured from my skin—wild, unshaped, curling like smoke ready to devour.
Nobles shrieked and stumbled back. Draven raised his hand. Fire bent to him at once, flaring hot and violent in his palm, Kaerani’s mark burning red at the hollow of his throat.
But before he could hurl it, I reached. Instinct, not thought. The flame twisted—ripped from his grasp—and burned in mine instead. It scorched my palm but did not consume. Shadows laced through it, black smoke threading the blaze until it bent to me. Heat flared at the nape of my neck where my mark lay—Icouldn’t see it, but with shadow and flame I knew it burned black and red.
Draven staggered, disbelief stark on his face as his fire danced in my hand.
The stranger only smiled, watching me like a man seeing a prophecy begin to bloom. “There she is,” he murmured, almost tender.
Before the power could break me open, Malachi’s shadows answered—thicker, steadier, winding through mine until the storm bent around me. It wrapped close, cooling the wild edges, pressing firm against my spine, my arms, my throat. A shield. A comfort.
His gaze locked on Draven. “Careful,” Malachi growled, low and lethal.
The air went tight, ready to shatter.
The stranger’s smile widened. “Let them,” he said softly.
The words slid through me like smoke—warm, heavy, persuasive. For a heartbeat, I almost obeyed. The shadows under my skin strained toward him, hungry for command. Then a breeze cut through the square.