51. Graves
51
GRAVES
G raves felt rage.
And sorrow at the memory of the words still ringing in his ears…
As the raven shifter knelt over the one he knew would change everything—had already changed everything—he clenched his hands into a fist, fucking lamenting every decision that had brought them to this point.
The godsdamned Fates.
He scoffed.
Fuck the Fates, and fuck their prophecies. Always interfering.
His gloves crinkled as he flexed his fingers, one hand punched into the ground and the other resting on a mass of dirtied, golden curls.
Her .
The fae Princess was limp on the ground, and the sound of vengeance permeated the hazy air of destruction that lingered within the village center.
And Graves stayed silent. Like he always did. Angered, like he always was.
Hopeless, like he often felt—especially as of late.
Luella’s eyes were closed as he watched her, her features pinched in pain as she fought off the shadows coursing through her. All because of that blade the female Umbra had used—coated in poisoned Umbra blood, perfect for turning unsuspecting villagers into one of their own.
The dark clothes the Princess wore were rumpled and torn, her cloak askew, and the neckline of her blouse underneath stretched, revealing ashen skin that he yearned to touch. She was so small, so slight, and utterly broken.
And it was all their fault.
Voices rang, and Graves cast his sharp, dark blue eyes to the dead Umbra who had dared to touch what belonged to them. The female was a small thing, golden red hair thin and tangled, her features not yet matured—an heirus, just like the one on the ground before him. The one that they were all tethered to.
The Tenebrae had reached this village— and more , Graves was sure. They were always too fucking late. And as he looked at the Umbra on the ground, her guts spilled and eyes forever stuck in an expression of pained relief, Graves only felt angry he could not hurt her some more. Hurt them all. Make the Tenebrae fucking sweat and feel heat nipping at his heels for trying to take their little captive from them.
Graves clenched his jaw.
He thought it was safe to send his Umbra to do his bidding, tucked away in Luna, as he was…
Soon , Graves vowed. Soon, they would show that godsdamned bastard that they, for once, had the upper hand, that they would win and have all the power.
All those nights Graves had watched her… He wanted to do more than stay outside her window and act as a mere voyeur. He wanted in . In her heart. In her mind. In her body. And he wouldn’t stop until he had all of her.
They got to her first, after all.
A lazy grin slowly tugged on the corner of his mouth, right where a scar forever marred his skin—a gift from the bastard that threatened to take their Princess.
The rush of frenzied voices cut through the slight ringing in his ears, and Graves pulled his attention away from the Umbra on the ground.
Vale gripped Luella’s cheeks. "Look at me. Open your eyes !" he bellowed, over and over.
Graves wondered if Vale felt so fiercely about her death because he wanted her power or because he wanted her.
His lip curled even as he blinked away a few tears burning white hot behind his eyes.
No . He couldn’t show weakness. Especially not here.
Azgorath cradled the Princess’s head on his lap, and Graves watched as the demon soothed a shaking palm over her forehead, even as she whimpered, limbs twitching and contorting as she fought off the dark shadows that swept throughout her body. It was futile, Graves knew. No one had ever fought off the touch of the Tenebrae.
Tharen shoved Vale aside. "Move," the mage growled.
Vale raised a hand, smoke wafting from his nostrils. He was pissed, the rage of his dragon deadly. He looked like he wanted to burn the Prima to ash for thinking he could speak to him so rudely.
Good luc k, Graves thought bitterly.
There wasn’t a day that went by that one of them did not try to harm the other. Always in vain.
The Fates fucked with more than just their futures but their autonomy, robbing the five of them of their ability to kill or do serious harm to one another.
Their lives were intrinsically linked. Threads knotted around their souls, all five leading to the fae struggling on the ground. They circled her, orbiting her even when she was near death—when she was unaware.
If only the little captive knew…
Graves placed a hand on Luella’s chest. Her exposed skin was cold, even through his gloves.
"We—" Bastian cleared his throat, emotion making his voice thick. "We should go. Quickly."
Tharen knelt over Luella, power flaring in his hands as he searched her, using his demon-inherited ability of Body magic. Az seemed too distraught to do anything but card his blood-tinged, shaking hands through her curls and over her cheeks, too distraught to use his own power.
Graves held back a scoff. This was why the demon was a liability. He was too soft and too controlled by his heart.
Luella’s back bowed off the ground, Bastian pressing a hand to her shoulder to keep her steady as Tharen worked. Azgorath shushed her, head lowered and horns nearly poking Vale’s eye from how close they hovered over her.
Graves didn’t think he had seen the pair together without fighting since… Before .
"She’s fighting it," Tharen said. "Her heart is steady but slow."
Vale lifted a hand from the wound on her arm. If it wasn’t for the Umbra blood on the blade, she would have been fine. It was a smaller cut; it probably didn’t even need stitches.
But the Tenebrae always knew how to win, and an unsuspecting dagger used as a vessel to deliver infection—to finally get his hands on her and her power—was perfect in the eyes of a villain.
Her power.
It was a matter of time, really. Too bad they had got to her first to take control of that power.
"Bastian, call for a portal. Now ," Vale barked.
Bastian closed his eyes, Mind magic flaring to life as he called one of their portal masters in Serpentis, demanding a portal to be opened for quick passage back to the castle—to Tharen’s apothecary.
Guess the mage would get his wish to look her over.
A large swirl of darkness bloomed to life amid the village, obscuring the dead bodies that littered the ground. Magic thrummed, and Graves stood, silently pulling his cowl up and hood back over his head.
He worked better in the shadows, anyway.
Vale gripped Luella’s waist, ordering, "Let me take her."
Azgorath hissed between his teeth, like a wildcat, tugging her back from away from Vale and keeping her closely bundled to him. "I’ve got her," the demon seethed. "You never wanted her anyway, just her power."
Bastian stood between them, a hand placed under the Princess’s head to keep her from knocking it against the rocks.
The vampire was soft with her.
Some small part of Graves wished he could be the same, but he was far past that now. Not after everything they had done.
"Now isn’t the time," Bastian urged. "One of you take her. We have to go."
Azgorath’s amber eyes flared as he implored the King, "Let me have this."
This —the small act of power of keeping their captive safe. But still, the demon didn’t beg.
Graves wondered if Azgorath would, even for her . The demon had risked everything for the promise of a female who didn’t even know he existed, but would he be able to utter the word, please ?
Smoke leaked from Vale’s mouth as he snarled, but the dragon shifter relented, allowing Azograth to take Luella in his arms and cradle her to his chest.
Graves wanted her in his arms. He shook the thought away. Soft and gentle wasn’t for him. He wasn’t made for it. He was made for watching. For blood and violence and stealing secrets under the cover of night.
He adjusted his cowl, making sure it was pulled over his mouth; he trailed silently behind the others as they prepared to enter the portal, leaving everything behind in a flurry of what-ifs.
He knew nothing would be the same once they stepped through that portal.
Casting a look back over the destroyed village, Graves’s eyes fell on the Umbra slumped near the side of a crumbled piece of wall, half-shadowed in the dark, destined to lay there until her skin turned to ash and bones turned to dust.
The final words the female had uttered clung to him like thick smoke.
Vale had plunged the sword into her stomach, tearing a hole right through her and her possessed heart.
The shadows that had marred her green eyes had grown faint, life leaving her…
But not before she had whispered something, blood bubbling over her lips and staining her teeth crimson, as she looked right into Graves’s eyes. " The Tenebrae will have her, Sorren ."