Chapter 23 Harkan #2
It looked almost normal—pale, angular, with features that might have been handsome before whatever dark ritual had hollowed it out. But his eyes were wrong. Empty. Two pits of absolute darkness that seemed to swallow light itself.
And its mouth...
Its mouth was open, a black void that grew wider as it fed, stretching past the limits of what flesh should allow, revealing nothing but emptiness within.
"Yes." Varro laughed from somewhere behind me. "Did you think the High Alpha would let you win? Did you think he'd send me without insurance?"
Another wolf went down—Mira, knocked sprawling by the Devourer's backhand, her fighters scattering as they tried to regroup.
Petra was there in an instant, hauling Mira to her feet, her broken nose still swollen but her blade already swinging at a loyalist who'd tried to take advantage.
The woman who'd sneered at my mate days ago now fought like a wolf possessed, guarding Mira's retreat with bared teeth and savage fury.
The creature was playing with them. Testing. Tasting the air like a predator deciding which prey to devour first.
Then its empty eyes found Sable.
No.
I moved before I thought, abandoning Varro, abandoning the duel, abandoning everything except the desperate need to reach her.
But the Devourer was faster. It flowed across the ground like shadow given form, ignoring the wolves that snapped at it, shrugging off Trouble's foxfire like it was nothing.
Trouble.
The little fox had grown in the altar's proximity—his flames burned white-hot now, his body crackling with magic he shouldn't have possessed. He appeared and disappeared, blinking through space, his needle teeth tearing at the Devourer's cloak, his fire searing its flesh.
But it wasn't enough.
The Devourer caught Trouble by the scruff and hurled him aside. The fox hit the altar with a yelp, sliding down the ancient stone, his flames guttering.
And Sable was alone.
"Run!" I roared, cutting down a loyalist wolf that got in my way. "Sable, run!"
She didn't run.
Instead, she raised her hands and threw everything she had at the monster.
Magic poured out of her—not the subtle truth-tasting, but raw power, silver and gold and furious, the same magic she’d used on the altar wards. It crashed against the Devourer like a wave, driving it back a step, then another. For one glorious moment, I thought she might actually stop it.
Then the Devourer opened its mouth wider.
And began to consume her magic whole.
The silver-gold light twisted, corrupted, pulled into that endless void. Sable gasped, her face going pale, her knees buckling. She was too far from the altar. Too far from the source of her power.
And the Devourer was drinking her dry.
"Sable!" I was running, fighting, tearing through anyone who got in my way, but there were too many bodies, too much chaos, too much distance between us.
The Devourer reached her.
Its hand closed around her throat and lifted her off the ground.
Up close, I could see what the feeding had done to it.
The human mask it had worn at the gates was slipping—skin gone ashen and stretched too tight over bones that seemed to shift beneath the surface.
Its fingers had lengthened, joints bending at angles that made my stomach lurch.
The more it consumed, the less human it became.
This was what the Devourer truly looked like beneath the disguise. This was what my father had unleashed.
Sable struggled against his hold, her fingers clawing at its arm while she kicked at its body, pouring everything she had into fighting back. Trouble was on his feet again, foxfire blazing, but every flame he threw was swallowed by that bottomless hunger.
The Devourer's other hand came up.
Its fingers were sharp—I hadn't noticed before, but its fingertips ended in points like obsidian blades. And as I watched, it drove those fingers into Sable's side.
Her scream split the night.
It wasn't just pain—it was violation, corruption, something wrong being forced into her body. Dark lines spread from the wound, crawling up her ribs, pulsing with a sickly light. And mixed with that darkness, something else. Something that fought back. Something gold.
The Devourer jerked its hand away, its empty eyes widening with something that might have been fear.
And Sable fell.
She hit the ground like a broken doll, her eyes rolling back, her body convulsing as the darkness and the gold warred beneath her skin. Blood pooled under her, too much blood, spreading across the ancient stone.
Trouble appeared at her side, his small body curled protectively around her head, his foxfire guttering but refusing to die.
She wasn't moving.
She wasn't moving.
MATE, the wolf howled. MATE IS HURT. MATE IS DYING. SHIFT. SHIFT NOW. KILL THEM ALL.
The rage I'd been holding back for a century surged. The beast I'd locked away after Helene died, the monster I was terrified of becoming. It heaved against my control like a tsunami against a dam.
She's dying, the wolf snarled. Like Helene. Like Mother. They're taking her from us.
SHIFT.
And this time, I didn't fight it.
I let go.