25. Kael
KAEL
The echo of her scream hasn’t left my head—an infestation invading the quiet corners of my mind.
A suffocating stillness has settled over everything. Each second stretched into an eternity as I watched the containment runes collapse—the argentine netting catching the light as it trapped her like the animal they expected her to be.
Then I fell back into the rhythm of a well-trained hound: I retrieved the subject from the guards, delivered her to confinement, and signed the incident report without comment.
The ink is still wet as I pause. My hands are still shaking. The scar beneath my tunic scorches my skin as it never has before.
She looked so peaceful slumped on her bed—an eerie beauty burned into my mind like acid on metal. It was a different mask than the one she wore in the chamber moments before.
It takes all my willpower to push the thoughts away. She is a jewelled serpent: alluring, captivating, but beneath the exterior is a cold, venomous killer. I cannot let myself forget who and what she is.
In all my years studying the shadows, I have never seen someone radiate that kind of power. It was ethereal, as if she were born from a different time—or a different dimension.
And now, the High Luminary of Mercy is interested in her. Of course he is. I can’t remember the last time Uri made himself known to anyone but his peers. This can only mean trouble.
Tension coils in my jaw; I realise I’m clenching my teeth so hard they ache. My hands are fisted, nails carving crescents into my palms.
Why does this bother me so much?
She is darkness incarnate. She is everything I despise. Yet something in me leans toward her—not curiosity alone, but recognition. That terrifies me. The thought is sickening; desire and disgust are twins wearing the same face, and I can no longer tell them apart.
I can’t stay in this confined space. My legs carry me through the dimly lit corridors, driven by a raw, undirected energy that pulls me back and forth until I stop, suddenly conscious of my surroundings.
A tall window stands before me, city lights twinkling in the distance.
Outside, Auria gleams as if nothing happened, but the thing inside me stirs, knowing the full force of what’s to come.
The greenery lining the Guild Hall calls to me. Its vibrancy a necessity—I need its aroma to wash away the rot in my mind.
* * *
Daren finds me in the Court Gardens, where the fountains sing hymns through silver pipes.
The floral notes drift on the air, and the darkness within dissipates, if only slightly.
His uniform is a muted beige, a sharp departure from my own scholar’s grey.
I’m the only ash-coloured shadow in a sea of common browns and the blinding white of the Luminaries.
Every buckle on Daren’s uniform is polished; every golden strand of his hair is in place. He looks like what faith is supposed to be: untouched, obedient.
“Kael,” he calls, a large grin carving dimples into his cheeks. “I thought you’d buried yourself in the Archives again. Or in one of Riven’s experiments.”
I feign a smile. “Something like that.” My voice sounds wrong—hoarse, hollow.
He claps me on the shoulder, his grip lingering as if sensing my need for grounding. “Sit. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
A goddess, more like.
We sit on the stone bench near the fountain. The water trickling behind us carries a faint scent of lilies and cleansing salt.
“How goes the ‘shadow project’?” he asks with deliberate, playful mockery. He knows of my work, but not its depth—it isn’t a topic for public walls. “Still trying to map the unholy into something readable?”
“It’s not unholy,” I snap. I slide my spectacles back up to the bridge of my nose, smoothing my hair back into place.
Daren laughs, and the sound soothes a part of me I didn’t know was raw. I roll my shoulders, finally releasing a breath I’d been holding.
“No relic fails,” he says easily. “Only people do. Or monsters. That’s what the Light teaches us, isn’t it?”
My eyes dart around, searching for listening ears.
Word has spread; the Shadowborne is already a stir.
I glance at Daren, relieved we’re alone.
His freckles shine in the waning light, a testament to a joy that seems to radiate from his skin.
How could he understand the abyss I dive into daily?
His life is in the light, following orders for the sake of comfort.
He upholds the city’s values—a prestigious role for a man who fought his way to the upper echelons. But that isn’t how I remember him. To me, he’ll always be the cheeky scruff I met in the trenches. Our paths split; his was destined for order, while mine was curated for darkness.
“C’mon Daren. People aren’t born monsters. They’re created.”
“Exactly,” he says.
“We have yet to determine how she was created. There is good in everyone—you of all people should know that.”
“Do you honestly believe there is an ounce of good in her?” He looks around for loiterers. “The whispers say she’s the worst we’ve encountered since the days of Nyx.”
My scar burns beneath my sleeve. I say nothing, but my heart skips at the name. It hangs in the air like smoke.
He stands, smoothing the creases in his uniform. “The Light has tested her and found her wanting. You know what that means. There is no light in her to save, Kael. She isn’t like the others. You need to remember that before all of this—” he waves a hand at the garden, at me. “—gets you in trouble.”
I give him a tight smile, desperate to move on. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“Even the brightest minds burn out when they forget which side they serve.” He claps my back. “Don’t let the darkness consume you, brother. The Light won’t forgive it.”
He leaves, his boots ringing on the marble until the fountain’s hymn swallows the sound.
I sit until the light fades, the sky smearing with pastel pinks and purples. When the bells call the faithful to prayer, I don’t move.
The mark under my sleeve throbs—faint and warm, like something alive.
I whisper to the empty garden, “And what if it's the dark that’s keeping me sane?”