Chapter 17 #2
I slammed him into the wall. His head cracked against the stone. Blood ran down his chin, bright in the torchlight.
“I live every day with that guilt,” I rasped, my throat burning. “Every night I see her face and I think she died believing I despised her. And now I know the truth—that you did it. That you took my last chance to fix it.”
Salvatore’s face was pale, his breath shallow. He stared up at me with something between terror and regret. But I didn’t see him anymore—only the ghost of my mother, lying on the floor, her blood soaking the earth.
“You took her from me,” I whispered. “You destroyed my life.”
The rage blurred my vision. My hands shook. I could feel his pulse fluttering weakly under my thumbs, feel the life straining to stay.
Severen’s laughter curled through the chamber, low and thick, feeding on the silence that followed.
He tilted his head toward me, eyes as bright as coals. “What is this hunger in you, Lazarus? This obsession with knowing who your father was? What makes you crave a name that was never meant for you?”
My grip on Salvatore loosened. I turned, chest heaving.
“Because I need to know,” I said. “My mother… she sold herself to live. I never knew which man she lay with. I needed to believe he was different—not one of them. Not another stranger who used her and left. I needed to believe that he meant something.”
Severen’s grin stretched, obscene and knowing. “Different?” he murmured. “Then let me give you your truth. You want to know the man who fucked your mother every day?”
He straightened, and the torches flared as if they feared him.
“It was me,” he said.
The words struck like a blade sliding between ribs.
“I took her when I pleased,” Severen said, his voice slick and cold. “She served me until she carried you. When she did, I abandoned her. I chose power over her—and over you. I left her to bleed because I will always choose power. I chose it then, and I choose it now.”
He stepped closer, shadow spreading at his feet like spilled oil.
“That’s why she refused to tell you,” he went on, a grin twisting across his face. “She was ashamed—ashamed that it was me. The whole city knew my name. They feared me. She feared me. She feared what you’d become if you knew. She thought if she kept my name buried, she could keep you human.”
My throat locked. The air thickened. I could taste salt, smoke, and iron.
“Have you never seen it, Lazarus?” His laugh was low and cruel. “Do you not feel it every time your blood burns hotter than his? Every time you rise, where does he stumble? You are stronger than Salvatore because you carry my blood.”
The shadows coiled, crawling along the stone, feeding the fire rising in my chest.
“You are my son,” Severen said, his words rolling through the chamber like a curse. “My heir. Salvatore will always be weak—fragile like his mother, Marianna, destined to fail. But you, Lazarus… you were born for this. You were made to become a Shadow Lord one day.”
My grip on Salvatore faltered. My strength drained like water through broken hands.
“What?” I breathed. My stomach heaved; bile burned up my throat. “No… no, you’re lying.”
Severen’s grin spread wider, the torchlight cutting across his teeth. His shadows licked the floor, long and hungry.
“Your mother tried to deny it,” he said. “Tried to raise you as something less than what you are. But she couldn’t erase the truth. My shadow lives in you, Lazarus. Whether you want it or not.”
He leaned forward, voice dropping low, every word a taunt sharpened to a knife’s edge.
“When I met her, she was mine. She fed my power with every breath, every cry. And when she grew heavy with you, she thought she could defy me. That was her mistake. That’s why she hid the truth from you.
She knew what I was. She knew you’d hate her for it.
She was terrified that if you ever learned the truth, you’d see her for what she was—a woman who had lain with a monster. ”
My breath hitched. The world tilted. My stomach turned until I thought I’d vomit. I dug my nails into my palms until blood welled beneath them.
“You knew your mother’s life,” Severen said, his tone suddenly calm, almost conversational, and somehow that was worse. “Why didn’t you tell your precious friend, Salvatore? Why hide what she was?”
The words tore through me. Shame and fury tangled in my throat.
Because I couldn’t fucking let him know. I was ashamed.
He had been alabaster and gold; I had been filth and blood. He gave me food when I had none, warmth when the world spat on boys like me. And I waited by the door every night, starving, praying she’d come back—praying he’d never see the truth of what I was.
Severen smiled as if he could hear my thoughts tearing themselves apart. He stepped closer, the stench of smoke and rot curling from his skin like a second shadow.
“You want to know why you never told your best friend what your mother was?” he murmured. “Because you couldn’t bear the thought of him looking at you differently. You wanted his loyalty. His respect. You wanted him blind.”
My jaw locked until it hurt. My throat burned with words that wouldn’t come. Because he was right. Damn him—he was right. I never wanted Salvatore to see me as the son of a whore.
Severen’s shadow slid across the floor, brushing my feet, climbing my legs like a nest of black serpents. His voice dropped to a purr.
“Once she carried you, she was useless to me. I could no longer draw power from her flesh. But make no mistake, Lazarus—your father was never some pitiful war veteran she pretended he was. Your father was me.”
The shadows rose higher, winding around my chest, pressing cold fingers against my throat.
“You are my spawn,” Severen whispered, his eyes glittering like oil in the torchlight. “My legacy. My shadow. And no matter how much you scream, no matter how much you deny it—you belong to me.”
The words fell on me like slabs of stone. My heart hammered, trapped and furious, disgust rising until I thought I’d choke on it.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t move.
“Your bloodline is mine, Lazarus,” he said, spreading his arms as if to bless me. “The power to ascend runs in your veins. All that remains is for the shadows to claim you. Once they do, you will not merely survive…” His teeth flashed, yellow and jagged. “…you will become a Shadow Lord.”
I stumbled back, bile burning up my throat. My stomach revolted at his voice, at the way it dragged my mother’s face through filth. The memories I had of her—soft, tired, kind—twisted under his words until I could hardly breathe.
I felt unclean. Defiled. As though my blood itself was crawling to escape me. The ground shifted, the torches guttering; even the Dreadhold seemed to recoil from what he’d said.
Salvatore’s eyes darted between us, confusion breaking across his face. He pushed himself upright, blood streaking his jaw, voice cracking as he shouted, “My mother was never fragile or weak. You’re a fucking liar!”
Severen chuckled, the sound sliding over the stone like a blade dragged across bone.
“Am I? Then tell me, how else do you explain your weakness? You inherited her fear. Her cowardice.”
His gaze slid between us, black eyes burning.
“But Lazarus…” he whispered, reverent and cruel. “…Lazarus carries me. My blood. My power. He will rise. And you, Salvatore—you will kneel beneath him.”
Salvatore’s jaw clenched. His voice dropped to a low, shaking growl.
“My mother was powerful, Severen. She was the first Mistress of Shadows—and you despised her because her power rivaled yours.”
The words hung in the air like a curse.
For the first time, Severen’s grin faltered. The shadows at his feet froze, listening. His head tilted; the bone charms across his chest rattled softly. His eyes narrowed into black slits.
“What did you say?” His voice wasn’t mocking now. It was sharp, dangerous. A hiss instead of a laugh. “Who dared put that name in your mouth?”
Salvatore didn’t flinch. “I know who she was. My mother was a Mistress of Shadows.”
The moment that name left his lips, the Dreadhold seemed to draw breath.
Chains trembled on the walls, links groaning as if pulled by unseen hands. The braziers flared and sputtered, their flames bending to the side, fighting to stay lit. The air thickened, as heavy as blood.
“Marianna is dead,” Severen hissed. Each word hit like a chisel splitting stone. “Buried where even her shadows cannot crawl back into this world.”
But the words didn’t sound like the truth. Beneath them was a fracture—a tremor that wasn’t grief, but something rawer. Fear.
Salvatore lifted his chin, blood still streaking down his jaw, his voice shredded but steady.
“Looks to me like you feared her,” he rasped. “That’s why you got rid of her. But don’t worry—” he spat blood onto the floor, his eyes burning bright in the dim—“I’ll find her. I’ll bring her back. With every ounce of power in me, I’ll make her rise again.”
Severen’s smile snapped.
The sound that followed wasn’t thunder—it was worse. A tremor rolled through the throne room, splitting through the air. The braziers screamed, flames twisting into black tongues before collapsing. Dust rained from the ceiling.
Then Severen exploded.
His shadows burst outward in a storm of black fire. They rushed across the chamber, devouring everything—air, light, sound—until only their hiss remained. They slammed into me, ice and flame all at once, wrapping around my chest like chains forged from smoke.
I hit the ground hard. My knees struck stone. The shadows constricted, crushing the breath from my lungs.
Salvatore gasped beside me, clawing at his throat as black tendrils coiled around him, hoisting him from the ground. His feet kicked against the air, his face turning pale beneath the slick of blood.
The chamber shook. Cracks spidered across the walls. Severen’s fury filled every inch of space, his voice erupting like iron shattering on the anvil.
“I brought you here not to question me,” he thundered, “but because you defied me! The Trial of the Blood Circle demanded one survivor—one! Yet you clung to each other like frightened children!”
The shadows tightened. Pain ripped through me, hot and endless. My chest convulsed, ribs grinding. Blood filled my mouth, metallic and sharp, but I barely tasted it.
The real pain was deeper.
All my life, I had lived beneath a lie.
My father had never been a war hero. All those years, my mother fed me stories of valor, banners, and sacrifice—and now I understood why. She wasn’t protecting me from grief. She was protecting me from the truth.
Because my father wasn’t a hero.
He was Morgrath Severen.
A Shadow Lord.
A man who built empires out of suffering and fed on the downfall of those who defied him.
And Salvatore—he had always believed his mother died bringing him into this world. But the way Severen’s voice cracked when he spoke her name, the way his shadows recoiled at it, told me there was more. Much more. His mother hadn’t been weak. She was something else—something that still haunted him.
The foundations of everything I’d believed splintered beneath me. My blood was not my own. My life had never been mine. We were both living inside Severen’s lies.
He loomed above us, grinning jagged and vile, his shadows coiling tight around our throats like living chains. The heat from the braziers warped the air; smoke curled between his teeth when he spoke.
“You think mercy makes you strong?” he sneered. “You think sparing each other buys you freedom?”
He spat on the floor. The sound snapped like brittle reed.
“No. Mercy is weakness. Defiance is failure. You both failed me.”
The shadows dragged me forward across the stone, skin tearing beneath the links. Beside me, Salvatore was hauled like a broken marionette, his body jerking with every pull.
“You were told only one of you would remain,” Severen said. “Yet you spat on my law. You denied me my spectacle.” His voice dropped lower—thick, venomous. “Now you’ll learn what defiance costs.”
His grin split wider, slicing his face in two.
“Your next trial will be agony. You will beg for death, and I will deny it. And because you spat in my face, because you dared defy my command, Amara will bear the penalty for your mercy. Only one of you will rise… or you will both be ground into ash.”
My stomach turned to stone. The world went red.
“Don’t you fucking dare touch Amara,” I snarled. “I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
Severen’s laughter detonated. It shook the chamber, rattled the chains, made the braziers flare until their flames screamed.
Then, suddenly, his shadows released their hold on us.
The coils of smoke and darkness snapped back toward him, slithering across the stone, vanishing into the folds of his cloak. My body collapsed under its own weight. I hit the ground hard, my palms scraping against the rough limestone.
The air tasted scorched.
Guards rushed forward—sandals slapping the floor, iron spears clattering. They yanked us upright, shoving us toward the archway with the blunt ends of their weapons. The heat from the braziers followed us, the light warping as if it too recoiled from Severen’s rage.
Then came his whisper—low, venomous, slicing into my skull.
Blame Salvatore. He brought you here. It was he who chained you to this nightmare.
The words burned through me, blistering, impossible to ignore.
I turned, the weight of them pressing hard beneath my ribs, every breath shallow.
The guards drove us forward, spears jabbing, the rattle of our chains echoing down the corridor. Behind us, shadows trailed close, whispering like a thousand unseen mouths.
Salvatore stumbled beside me—bloodied, silent for once. Silent like the guilty.
I leaned close enough that he could feel my breath on his ear. My voice came out low, shaking with what I refused to call grief.
“It’ll be me who kills you in the next trial,” I said. “I will rise, and you will fall. You’re fucking dead to me, Salvatore—for bringing me into this nightmare. Our friendship, our brotherhood, every goddamn memory we ever had—dead. I’ll never forgive you.”
His eyes found mine—wide, hollow, desperate to speak—but I didn’t let him. I didn’t want his excuses.
I turned away. The chains bit deep into my wrists as the guards dragged me on.
Behind us, Severen’s laughter followed, winding through the corridor like smoke through a tomb. But beneath it, under the rattle of chains and the groan of ancient stone, I heard the shadows whisper back—
You will rise together.
You will fall together.
You will die together.