Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
We crossed the threshold onto the Ascension Grounds, the late morning sun painting the stones in warm gold, but the chill in my spine hadn’t left. The squad was already gathered, spread in their usual loose arc, but the moment Zander and I stepped into view, all eyes locked on us.
They could tell something had shifted. Something big.
“We found Theron,” I said without preamble. “He’s alive. Barely. He was poisoned.”
Jax straightened. “By who?”
Zander stepped forward. “Inderia.”
A ripple of murmured curses and wide-eyed glances swept through Thrall Squad. Ferrula’s jaw flexed. Naia didn’t blink.
“She may be our poisoner,” I continued, “but we can’t guarantee she’s the one behind the dark magic. She was working with someone else. A Blood Fae leader. One powerful enough to promise her things even Theron couldn’t.”
“We need to know who that is,” Zander said. “And we need to know fast.” He looked expectantly at Tae.
Tae, ever the picture of unbothered arrogance, tilted his head. “So, what? I flirt with her, distract her, see what she spills?”
Zander grunted. “That’s the idea.”
Tae groaned dramatically and shoved his fingers through his hair. “I’ll do what’s necessary, but I’d rather masturbate with barbwire than fuck Inderia.”
Jax barked out a laugh loud enough to startle a passing page.
Zander didn’t smile. “I’m fairly certain an intimate relationship isn’t necessary,” he said dryly. “But please lead her to believe you want one.”
Tae sighed. “You owe me a bottle of something strong and morally questionable.”
Zander ignored him, his tone sharpening again. “What matters is the spellcaster. Whether that’s Inderia or her accomplice. We need them. Because we are running out of time to save my father.”
He looked around the circle, meeting every gaze with steady command.
“Let’s get this done.”
The squad nodded—one by one. Determined. Unified.
And then—
Solei approached from across the grounds, the wind catching her cloak as she strode toward us, her expression unreadable.
Her boots hit the stone with crisp, purposeful strides, her cloak still rippling behind her as she came to a stop just a few paces from the squad.
She looked at me directly, all sharp angles and narrowed eyes. “What’s going on?”
I hesitated, glancing briefly at Zander.
His jaw shifted, but he gave the smallest nod.
I exhaled. “We can trust her.”
Solei’s gaze didn’t waver.
“Theron was poisoned,” I said, low but clear. “We found him in the northern wing—alive, barely. He said Inderia did it. She lured him there, drugged him, and left him to die.”
Solei’s expression didn’t change, but her body stilled completely.
“And,” I continued, “she admitted, according to Theron, that she’s working with a Blood Fae, powerful enough to promise her even more than Theron.”
Zander added, “She may have poisoned Theron, but we’re still trying to confirm if she’s also the spellcaster who’s been draining the warders.”
Solei went quiet, her eyes flicking over us, then to the squad behind, then back to me. “If Inderia cast the spell—and the Blood Fae leader arrived after—then the Blood Fae is likely the one who drained the warder.”
I nodded slowly. “That’s possible. But how would a Blood Fae get inside the wards?”
Solei didn’t answer immediately. Instead, her head turned toward the barracks, eyes narrowing in thought.
“Is there any way we could ask your sister?”
The question cut sharper than I expected.
“She may know the answer,” Solei said, her voice quieter now. “She grew up with dark magic. If anyone would know how to slip a Blood Fae past the protections—it’s Veyna.”
I hesitated again, not out of distrust, but… concern.
Still. I turned and spotted Remy approaching from across the courtyard, boots lazy, eyes as focused as ever.
“Remy,” I called out.
He stopped. “Yeah?”
“Will you get Veyna for us?”
He glanced between me, Zander, and Solei, and I saw the flicker of calculation in his gaze.
But he didn’t argue.
He just nodded once. “Sure,” he said, and turned toward the barracks.
And the question now was—
How much did Veyna really know?
As Remy disappeared into the barracks, I turned back to the others, lowering my voice.
“Do we trust him?”
Ferrula raised an eyebrow. Tae tilted his head in thought, but it was Zander who answered first.
“I’m not a fan,” he admitted, folding his arms. “He’s reckless. Arrogant. And far too charming for his own good.” A pause. “But I don’t think he’s a traitor.”
I nodded slowly. “I agree. He may play both sides of the table, but I don’t think he’d flip it.”
“He’d make a scene first,” Naia added dryly, arms crossed. “And he hasn’t.”
That was good enough—for now.
Remy returned a moment later, his gait casual, but his eyes intense. Veyna walked beside him, her face composed, unreadable.
He glanced around the group, then zeroed in on me. “You’re gonna have to explain why I just interrupted your sister reading something about fae history and sweetbreads.”
I gave him the brief version, not sparing the ugliness—Theron poisoned. Inderia involved. Blood Fae potentially behind the warder’s death.
Remy’s eyes flashed. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. “Why did you want Veyna?”
I turned to her gently. “Because you grew up around dark magic. And we need to know if there’s any way—any at all—a Blood Fae could infiltrate Warriath while the wards are still active.”
Veyna didn’t hesitate. “Only if you allow it,” she said. “The wards are designed to repel blood-corrupted magic. They’re old and flawed, yes—but they don’t fail on their own. Someone would have to bypass the ward. And to do that, they’d have to know how. They’d have to invite the fae in.”
I felt the knot in my stomach twist.
“I doubt anyone here would betray their people like that,” Veyna added, glancing between us.
Solei, arms crossed, nodded. “That’s true. But…”
Her voice dipped.
“What if they didn’t know they were working with the enemy?”
I blinked. “What are you getting at?”
Solei’s eyes lifted to mine—calm, razor-sharp.
“There are ways to bind someone’s will. Enchantments.
Magic disguises. Even blood-pacts. All it would take is a guild member being manipulated without ever realizing the truth.
” She glanced toward the tower. “If the Blood Fae is here, they didn’t walk through the gates in chains and shadows.
They were invited in. Possibly wearing the face of someone we already know. ”
A heavy silence settled around us.
I glanced around at the circle of familiar faces, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Are you saying… a glamour was used? It would have to be a pretty powerful one.”
Solei’s eyes didn’t leave Veyna. Her fingers flexed once at her side.
“I believe it was more than that,” she said, voice as flat and pointed as honed steel.
I turned to her slowly. “You already know who it is.”
She chuckled.
Not the usual dry, amused sound. This was lower. Darker. A warning disguised as amusement.
And then her hand moved.
Faster than my eyes could follow, the blade flashed in the sun—a gleaming arc of death. It whizzed past me, a breath from my shoulder, straight toward—
Veyna.
But it never landed.
The dagger halted midair with a pulse of energy that knocked the air from my lungs. It hovered, vibrating, twisting slowly as if it were caught in an unseen current.
Veyna—no, something wearing her face—tilted its head. Her expression didn’t flinch. Didn’t fear.
“I did not expect a human without magic to be so… irritating,” she said, her voice echoing now with a resonance that didn’t belong to Veyna. It slithered down my spine like cold oil.
We all stepped back instinctively, weapons drawn, magic flaring at fingertips and throats.
“Veyna?” I breathed, my voice catching. “What is this?”
She turned her eyes to me, but they weren’t Veyna’s eyes anymore.
They were ancient. Crimson laced with silver, as deep as endless blood.
The thing in my sister’s skin smiled thinly.
And my heart shattered.
The world tilted.
For a moment, it was still Veyna standing there—my sister. Her face. Her posture. Her voice. But something inside me already knew. My magic recoiled. Kaelith hissed in my mind.
And then the glamour began to melt.
Like ink in water, her image unraveled—eyes glowing too bright, skin paling, warping, twisting. Her hair lightened to a shade too white to be natural, and her soft features sharpened into something cold, regal, and terrible.
Severeth stood before us, in the place Veyna had once been.
Tall. Inhuman. Radiating magic that felt like rot beneath silk. Her presence suffocated the air itself, and her gaze gleamed with centuries of cruel calculation.
“Where is Veyna?!” I demanded, my voice cracking, my body trembling even as I took a step forward.
Severeth laughed—truly laughed. It echoed through the courtyard like breaking glass.
Shouts echoed around us, but Zander motioned for the other riders to stay back.
“Veyna is a figment of my imagination,” she purred. “A clever ruse, if I say so myself. I must admit, I was rather fond of her. She had your eyes.”
“No,” I breathed. “Why? Why do this?”
Severeth turned to me fully, her cloak swirling like mist behind her. “Because,” she said sweetly, “you told Veralin it could take fifty years for the wards to finally fail. Fifty years of waiting. Of hiding. And we were so close.”
Her eyes pulsed, a terrible red sheen lighting them from within.
“I decided it was worth sacrificing the child-hostage to kill the remaining warders myself.”
I choked on a breath.
“They are delicious,” she added with a grin, her teeth now too sharp. “So much power locked in such soft flesh.”
Remy, frozen beside me, stared at her—at her—his face pale with disbelief.
“This… isn’t possible,” he whispered.
Severeth’s gaze slid toward him with serpentine ease. Her expression softened.
“Ah, Remy.” She stepped toward him with grace, like a predator indulging a final kill. “Of all of them, I must say… I enjoyed you the most.”
Remy took a step back.
“Perhaps,” Severeth said, tilting her head, “we may continue our relationship after I take control of Warriath.”
Her smile widened.
And the sky felt just a little closer to falling.