Page 132 of The Blood Rites

He pivots, and in one perfect motion sends a blade of wind across the glass. It sweeps Serraith’s feet from under him, knocking him flat. His face smashes into the ground, cracking teeth. The next gust from Alaris rolls Serraith right over the edge of the platform.

Serraith’s body vanishes into the light.

A silence falls, but the number on the Mother Shard’s crown doesn’t change. I wonder if it only counts those who matter.

Atheron’s composure fractures for an instant. Then he is all rage, heat rolling off him like poison. He turns to Alaris and opens his arms. “All right then. Come and die.”

Alaris glances at me, an unspoken question in his eyes.

“Go,” I say. “I’ll handle Maleiros.”

He grins and launches himself at Atheron.

I turn, ready for Maleiros. He’s slower than before, wounded, and his fiery fists are flickering. I brace myself for his charge, raising my shield in a half-dome in front of me.

But he doesn’t attack. Instead, he backs away, eyes never leaving Atheron.

“You know this is pointless.” His voice is tired. “He will win. They always do.” His eyes flick—not to me, but to Atheron.

The Visconti Heirs.

“Maybe,” I rasp. “But not today.”

I advance, even though my legs are like lead. Every step is a gamble. Maleiros doesn’t take the bait. He just retreats further back, letting me pass.

Now it’s just me and the dome.

Something shifts inside me. This is not just a fight for survival. It is a battle for the only person who has ever made me feel wanted.

Kael.

I reduce my shield, letting it wrap around me like a second skin. Maleiros could probably kill me now if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He just stands, arms loose at his sides, breathing hard and watching.

I glance at Alaris. “Can you hold them off?”

His eyes glint as he grins wickedly.

I give myself one breath to think about leaving Alaris alone.

Then I take a step.

And walk straight into the darkness.

The darkness accepts me, but it isn’t welcoming.

Shadows press into me, trying to smother what doesn’t belong. But slowly, they begin to recoil—not retreating, but hissing, peeling away. Everything is silent. The battle outside is gone. The darkness makes a path for me, and I wonder if they can see this. If Kael can.

Inside, the world is cool, close, pulsing. There is no air here, not really—no sound. No wind. Barely a breath. Just the thrum of Mana.

Kael is at the centre, on his knees, both palms pressed to the floor. He is a silhouette, the shadow so thick it seems to devour the light I bring in with me. His hair is plastered to his forehead, face drained of colour. His lips are cracked, tinged blue. Nyxen and Vaelis kneel to either side, hands locked to his shoulders, as if channelling their life force into him. They’re barely breathing. I don’t know if they can even see me.

Kael does.

His head snaps up, his eyes all black—deep and monstrous. Then something softens them. He looks at me like I am the last drop of water in the world.

Nyxen and Vaelis shift their hands from Kael, fingers splaying on the ground. The shadows around them flare.

I don’t hesitate. I drop to my knees in front of Kael and pull him in by the collar with my working hand. It’s awkward and clumsy, but I use what I have. The kiss is rough, desperate, more teeth than anything. I taste blood and sweat, but it’s perfect.