Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
CADEN
It had been a week since the first battle at Kanata C.
Every day, humans gathered at the edges of our world, voices raw as they shouted for Emma, spitting her name like it carried every curse they knew, like she was both their monster and their messiah.
I knew Saoirse was nexing Emma every day to make sure she was okay, but—true to form—Emma kept insisting she was “fine.” Which was basically code for I’m absolutely not fine but screw you for asking.
On Friday we emerged in the Human World, right outside the Metasphere near the US border, not far from where another group of humans had been spotted, according to this morning’s briefings.
One by one, my team materialized, their arrivals marked only by the faintest stirrings of movement before they melted into their assigned positions. No wasted steps. No hesitation.
“We’re in the Human World. From here on, only Emma translates,” I ordered. Then I let the teams fall back, moving ahead with just Emma, James, and Sean, minimizing risk, keeping exposure to a minimum.
The ground beneath us sloped into uneven terrain, jagged rock formations jutting out every two steps. The vantage point was perfect though: high enough to give us a clean view of the clearing below, but with enough natural cover to keep us hidden.
I pressed a hand against Emma’s shoulder, signaling for her to stop. She obeyed without question, sinking down behind a cluster of boulders. I crouched beside her, muscles coiled, scanning the landscape ahead.
The others followed suit, their movements seamless, practiced. Even James—despite his obvious sulking at me being the one in charge—dropped low without protest.
The forest stretched before us, a perfect stage of silence. Too perfect. Even the wind had stilled, the usual rustling of branches absent, the mist hanging heavy over the land like it had been deliberately placed there.
I exhaled slowly, shifting enough to glance at Emma. Her gaze was locked forward, her fingers twitching slightly, the only sign of the anticipation thrumming beneath her otherwise perfectly composed exterior.
And then we waited.
Watched. Observed. In the miserable Canadian snow. My fingers were stiff, my knuckles felt like sandpaper, and I silently cursed the fact that translation was off the table.
Next to me, Emma breathed into her hands, rubbing them together in a futile attempt to fight off the chill. She shuddered, muttering under her breath, “I’m freezing my ass off.”
I glanced at her, the corner of my mouth twitching despite myself. “Well, that’s a shame. It’s a pretty nice ass.”
Emma rolled her eyes, but I didn’t miss the way her shoulders loosened slightly, the tension in her frame easing just a fraction.
The warmth of my teasing settled between us, a small flicker of something lighter in the cold.
She huffed, her breath curling in the frigid air. “Have I mentioned your flirting has the worst timing ever?”
I smirked. “Once or twice. But I wasn’t flirting.”
Emma arched a brow, disbelief practically radiating off her. “You commenting on my ass isn’t flirting?”
I shrugged. “Just an observation.”
“Right. And if I told you your arms look good in that jacket?”
“That would definitely be flirting.”
She scoffed, shaking her head, but I caught the slight tug at the corner of her lips.
A smug satisfaction settled deep in my chest, warming me far more than the useless friction of my hands ever could.
Then something occurred to me.
"You know you can heal yourself warm, right?" I murmured, glancing at her flushed cheeks, the slight tremor in her fingers. "Between your healing powers, and your invisible translation, you don’t have to be cold right now."
Her eyes snapped to mine, a flicker of surprise flashing across them. "I hadn’t even thought of that."
I let out a slow exhale, shaking my head slightly. "Thompson." I let my hand drop near hers, fingers barely brushing the back of her hand, a soft, fleeting touch, barely there, but intentional. A reminder.
"Don’t ever forget who you are."
Emma stilled, and for a heartbeat she didn’t move, didn’t speak, only stared, something unreadable sparking behind her eyes. Then, as if the truth had only now settled into her bones—she was the most powerful maga alive—she drew in a deep breath and nodded.
Warmth spread through me as she used her invisible healing haze on us both.
I forced my attention back to the upper reaches. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” She winked, then stared further ahead.
It had been hours.
We were spread wide across the clearing, the four of us forming a loose semicircle along the snow-packed ridge. James and I had taken the northern edge, crouched low behind the charred remains of a fallen pine.
“Have you heard anything from Stephen?” I mumbled, hoping James’s attempts had been more fruitful than mine.
“No. You?”
I shook my head. “Think we should start worrying?”
James exhaled, shrugging into his collar. “Stephen’s still searching for Gordon to get us some answers on Emma’s translation. Whenever he dives into a mission, he’s often off grid for months.”
My focus drifted to the subject of that last statement.
Emma stood further downslope, maybe twenty feet ahead, her posture rigid, keeping us all warm enough so we wouldn’t die of frostbite, while Sean was opposite us, right inside the tree line, scanning the perimeter.
The forest was too quiet. Too still.
I felt it first in my gut, a prickle under the skin, the warning something waited right beneath the surface.
Then…
Crack.
The sound tore through the silence like a gunshot in a cathedral. I spun, breath sharp in my chest.
Through the fractured shadows, I caught him. A figure breaking from the eastern tree line, half-shrouded in the mist. He moved like a phantom—low, fast, calculated—rifle raised, the barrel flashing cold light as he cut through the haze, sprinting along the edge of the trees.
Every muscle in me coiled tight. The world funneled to a single point, the glint of steel, the ghost moving around us, and the next heartbeat that could decide everything.
My head snapped to the right: Emma. Exposed. The bastard had a perfect line on her.
Not her.
The thought wasn’t words so much as instinct, a raw, blinding surge that drowned everything else.
The gunshot cracked, slicing through the ringing in my ears like a scalpel through flesh. The world jolted with its precision.
Before I even knew I’d moved, I was running. Boots tearing through the snow, breath burning cold in my lungs. The world tunneled. The sting of wind, the metallic taste on my tongue, her silhouette caught in the crosshairs of fate.
I hit her full force, driving us both to the ground right as a second bullet screamed past.
It whizzed by my ear—too close—and slammed into the trunk behind us with a hollow, splintering crack that sent bark raining down like ash.
We hit the ground. Hard.
Emma grunted beneath me, pupils blown wide with adrenaline. Her breath came in quick bursts that fogged between us. I covered her, shielding her head with my arm, the cold seeping through my coat until it burned.
“Are you hurt?” My voice came out rough, raw.
She shook her head, panting. “No. I’m good.”
My pulse was still thundering, loud enough to drown the world. James was already up and moving, boots hammering across the frozen ground, shouting something I couldn’t hear through the roar in my ears.
Behind him, Sean barked orders at the rest of the team, his hand locked around the Nexus like he could will the message through sheer force.
And the shooter?
Gone.
Only the mist remained, curling where he’d vanished, as if the forest itself had swallowed him whole.
EMMA
I was the most powerful of all the magi in the world. Dixit Caden.
And yet, the moment some pathetic human bullet was fired vaguely in my direction, the latter tackled me like I was no more than a fragile little bird, in need of saving by a big broad deceivingly charming hero.
I groaned as I hit the ground, more from irritation than impact, his entire stupidly massive body covering me like some overprotective human shield. His breath was hot against my ear, his arms locked around me like he was personally offended by the concept of personal space.
“Are you kidding me?” I hissed, trying very hard not to enjoy how his ridiculous amount of muscle pressed against my back. “Get the hell off me.”
“Shut up and be brilliant,” he snarled with that signature mix of arrogance and exasperation.
Well. That did shut me up. You know, because I was brilliant and all that.
I quickly found James, and judging by the storm brewing in his expression, he was less than pleased to find me slightly crushed under Caden’s entire body.
“Everyone okay?” I grumbled, still pissed at Mr. Spends-Too-Much-Time-in-the-Gym practically smothering me.
“Well, my jacket has seen better days, but the rest of us are just peachy,” Sean drawled, his tone thick with sarcasm as he dusted himself off.
Caden finally moved off me, and the second he did, James thundered through the clearing. "Portal her out! Now!"
I blinked, stunned at the absurdity. Portal me out? Like hell! I was about to hunt these humans down and make them suffer. For what they did to my parents. To me.
Let them run. Let them hide. I’d find them. And when I did, I’d make sure they’d beg me for the solace of death…and be fucking denied.
But before I could move, the bored mask slid off Caden’s face like a curtain. For a breath, the man I knew—the dangerous part of him—stepped forward.
His eyes were bright with the faint, ugly thrill of it. Then, he opened his arms like he was embracing the sky. Something in him unfurled—dark, liquid, and impossibly fast—his obsidian haze blooming from his palms and ripping outward at a speed that made the air scream.
It shot across the clearing in black streaks, folding and snapping into itself like spilled ink obeying an unseen hand. The sound followed, a low, rolling thunder that seemed to rise from the earth itself, the ground shivering under our boots.
I felt it in my teeth, a pressure that dragged inward, as if the whole forest were being pulled into a void.
Then the energy hit the tree line. Branches rattled.
Leaves tore free. The sound deepened into something cavernous, like cliffs splitting apart, like the earth itself had cracked open just beyond sight.
Caden’s lips curved, not quite a smile. “No one’s portaling out. We have hostiles in the area; we’re tracking them down. Right now, there’s a chasm surrounding the forest. No one can get out. Not without translation.”
The words landed like a verdict. I couldn’t see it, not through the wall of trees, but I could hear it: the groaning earth, the echo of depth, the panic of human voices cut short as the drop swallowed their cries.
In my mind’s eye it formed anyway—a canyon-scale wound, circling us rim to rim, a prison carved into the world itself.
“Sean, draw a perimeter around us. Emma and I will hunt down anyone who’s still in the forest and deal with them.”
Sean gave a tight, professional nod and launched himself into the trees, boots whispering over leaf-litter, a spray of frost spitting from his heels as he slipped between trunks. The sound of his sprint dissolved into the woods: a steady thud, then distance.
Caden turned. “Walker. Go back to the team. Keep them on standby until I give the signal.”
James’s jaw flexed, the muscle ticking hard. “You are giving me orders now?”
Caden didn’t flinch. “I’m making sure no one else gets shot.”
For a moment, the air between them tightened.
Then James exhaled through his nose, a short, scathing sound. “Fine. But don’t take too long playing hero.”
Caden didn’t bother answering. He only gave me a curt nod and pulled—slightly—until I stepped up beside him, the muscles in my calves waking with a tight, hungry jolt.
We moved as one, shoulders low, the snow underfoot crunching with every planted step. Branches snagged at sleeves; cold bit the tip of my nose; and the air tasted like metal and promise.
“You ready for some vengeance?” Caden’s voice was low, and the words skittered down my spine, leaving goosebumps that had nothing to do with the Canadian cold.
I shot him a small smile—a silent, fierce thank you for backing me again—as the heat of his words coiled in my chest, the promise of what was coming thrumming beneath my skin.
“Hell. Yeah.”
The forest pressed close around us as we moved, shadows stretching long between the trees. Caden led, his steps silent, predatory, like the hunt was written into his bones. I trailed just behind him, as every rustle and shift in the undergrowth made my skin prickle.
Tracks in the snow dragged us forward. Boot prints sunk deep where the ground was softest, branches splintered and bowed as though the forest itself had been forced to make way. The trail wasn’t random, it funneled in one direction, a straight line of flight.
Every step pressed into the snow screamed of panic, of people running for cover.
At the base of a slope, the tracks bled into a mound of earth.
Prints clustered at the entrance, circling, scuffing the dirt as if too many feet had fought to vanish into the same place. A crude barricade of soil and rotting planks hunched over the gap, a disguise so clumsy it only proved there was something worth hiding.
Caden’s gaze swept the tracks, then the makeshift cover. “You see this?”
I nodded, no doubt in my mind they went in here.
With a flick of his hand, the wood splintered inward with a hollow crack.
Dust belched into the air, hanging in the silence like a warning before drifting down into the waiting dark.
A hollow gaped beyond, veiled in darkness.
At the back, the dirt wall wasn’t solid; it opened into a narrow passage, uneven and clawed wider by human hands.
Not a crawlspace, not quite a cave, something in between, cramped and foreboding.
Caden’s eyes glinted in the gloom. “Shall we?”
A nervous flutter erupted in my stomach, as I stared into the black maw yawning before us. It wasn’t just dark, it was consuming, endless, like stepping into something that wanted to swallow me whole.
No weakness, Emma.
I forced a curt nod and followed Caden in.