Page 63 of The Blood Rites

The Waterborn are all together, eyes closed, heads bent in prayer. Callen watches over them from a bench at their rear. Alaris and the other Airborn are squabbling like teenagers with too much energy. Fen is tapping out some anxious rhythm with his feet as he watches the other two.

I don’t see Kael anywhere, and Nyxen and Vaelis are still training together.

An Overseer glides towards the centre of the Dome, raising its bony hands for silence, the tendrils of its robe flickering in a phantom breeze. The humming grows louder, vibrating through the floor.

But before the Overseer can speak there is an enormous crash.

Shadow detonates across the far wall and the lights flicker.

Kael tears himself out of the darkness. Bare-armed. Bloody. Breathing hard. Nothing about him resembles composure anymore as his shadows drag behind him like something alive. His hair hangs loose across his eyes, his mouth twisted into a snarl. He doesn't even glance at the Overseer, just stalks forward, waiting.

Atheron and his Fireborn swagger into the Dome, slamming open the doors, with the reckless confidence of men who have never been forced to fear consequences. He says something to one of them, and they all laugh, rough cackles echoing. They head straight for Kael.

Kael, terrifying and unflinching, stares down Atheron with undisguised hatred.

Atheron doesn't flinch. He stands proud, arms folded, voice ringing out in the suspended silence.

“Careful, Prince,” Atheron says softly. “You’re slipping again.”

His eyes sweep the crowd, but no one dares utter a sound.

Kael doesn’t answer. I’m not sure he even can. He just stands there, trembling with barely contained rage. The shadows writhe around him, alive and restless. I can feel it from here, like ice-cold pinpricks on my skin.

Nyxen moves immediately, hand already on his blade.

Vaelis only watches Kael for half a second longer, expression tightening with something dangerously close to fear.

“Stay back!” Kael barks, his voice raw and broken.

It takes them a full second to obey.

Atheron laughs, slow and antagonising. “That’s right, pups. Back down. Next, you’ll be taking orders from the Prince’s bitch.”

He gestures at me, and I feel every eye in the room swing in my direction.

I want to run, but I stay rooted to the spot.

The tension continues to mount as the Overseers begin their song:

Bright Mother, see us. Bright Mother, claim us. Bright Mother, take what you need so the world may breathe.

Let the Veins be fed. Let the torment sleep.

I’ve never heard so much of their chant. It’s strangely beautiful—but the timing makes my blood boil.

Atheron doesn't wait any longer. He launches forward, flames already curling around his fists. Kael meets him head-on, the shock of their collision sending a wave of flame and shadow across the floor. They're evenly matched for a moment until the other two Fireborn move in. They circle Kael in a practised pincer formation, both wielding swords wreathed in searing, orange flames.

Kael uses his shadows to absorb the first blows, but he’s on the defensive. Every movement is a block or a dodge. He’s incredibly strong, faster than anyone or anything I’ve ever seen, but even a Prince can’t defend forever.

Nyxen and Vaelis are itching to move. I can see the desperation in their faces, but their duty to their Prince keeps them bound to the spot.

I have no such duty.

I see my chance and take it, grabbing a sword from the nearest rack—immediately, I know it’s too heavy.

Atheron is the first to notice me as I sprint into the fray. He grins, eyes flashing with thinly-veiled contempt. “Come to play, little rabbit?”

“Don’t fucking call me that!”