Chapter 26
SERIS
The resistance flooded through the gates like water breaching a dam, unstoppable, furious, and hungry for justice.
I stood rooted as warriors streamed past me, their war cries splitting the smoke-choked air.
Boots hammered against cobblestones. Steel rang against steel.
Somewhere behind me, the massive iron gates groaned shut with a finality that reverberated through my chest.
“Seal it!” Kaelen’s voice cut through the din. “Lock them out!”
Fae soldiers moved with practiced efficiency, dropping the reinforcement bar into place and wedging debris against the mechanism.
Outside, voices erupted in fury. King Aeron’s reinforcements, which had approached from both sides during the assault, pounded against wood and iron that had turned against them.
They’d reach the secondary entrances eventually, but precious minutes had been bought.
Minutes that might be all we had.
Kaelen turned, her face streaked with soot and blood that wasn’t hers. She caught my eye across the chaos, and her expression hardened with singular purpose.
“Battalions two and three! Hold the perimeter! Four, clear the western approach! One, you’re with me!” She closed the distance to me in a few strides. “You need to move. Now.”
I opened my mouth, but the words tangled in my throat.
Around us, civilians scattered like startled birds.
Some fled, while others turned on each other with the violence and corruption in their eyes.
A woman screamed as her neighbor dragged her toward a burning storefront.
Two children crouched in a doorway, filthy and wide-eyed with terror.
“Seris.” Daemon’s voice settled against my ear, low and urgent. “Look at me.”
I did. His face was spattered with blood, shadows coiling restlessly at his shoulders, but his eyes held mine steady.
“This won’t stop until we reach the source. Every second we delay, more people die.”
My stomach twisted. He was right. I knew he was right. But knowing didn’t make it easier to turn away from the woman being dragged past me or the children who flinched at every shout.
“The throne,” Daemon said. “End this at the throne, and you save everyone left.”
Kaelen’s hand landed on my shoulder, firm enough to anchor. “We’ll hold the streets. That’s our fight. Yours is below.”
I dragged in a breath that tasted of smoke and copper, held it, hoping it would solidify into resolve, and nodded once.
“Good.” Kaelen released me and spun toward her forces. “Malzaun, you’re on escort! Move out!”
Twenty elite soldiers peeled away from the main force, forming a protective wedge around me and Daemon’s core team. Captain Malzaun took point, his scarred face grim beneath the torchlight.
“Stay close,” he barked. “Kill anything that gets in the way.”
We plunged into the burning streets.
The capital had transformed into something unrecognizable.
Buildings that once housed merchants and craftsmen now spilled smoke and screams. Corpses littered the cobblestones.
Dark magic coiled through the air like living smoke, thick enough that I could taste it coating my tongue. It pulsed with wrongness and hunger.
We moved fast, weaving through alleys and side streets that Daemon navigated from memory.
Kael and Kane flanked wide, clearing intersections with brutal efficiency.
They took out any soldiers but incapacitated civilians possessed by the Devourer’s power.
Zephyr moved like the wind itself, there and gone, appearing at key moments to eliminate threats before they could fully materialize.
A group of corrupted soldiers stumbled from a collapsed tavern, weapons raised. Squad Seven cut them down without breaking stride.
“Left here,” Daemon called.
The resistance flooded through the gates like water breaching a dam.
Unstoppable, furious, and hungry for justice.
I stood rooted as warriors streamed past me, their war cries splitting the smoke-choked air.
Boots hammered against cobblestones. Steel rang against steel.
Somewhere behind me, the massive iron gates groaned shut with a finality that reverberated through my chest.
"Seal it!" Kaelen's voice cut through the din. "Lock them out!"
Fae soldiers moved with practiced efficiency, dropping the reinforcement bar into place and wedging debris against the mechanism.
Outside, voices erupted in fury. King Aeron’s reinforcements, which had approached from both sides during the assault, pounded against wood and iron that had turned against them.
They’d reach the secondary entrances eventually, but precious minutes had been bought.
Minutes that might be all we had.
Kaelen turned, her face streaked with soot and blood that wasn’t hers. She caught my eye across the chaos, and her expression hardened with singular purpose.
"Battalions two and three! Hold the perimeter! Four, clear the western approach! One, you're with me!" She closed the distance to me in a few strides. "You need to move. Now."
I opened my mouth, but the words tangled in my throat.
Around us, civilians scattered like startled birds.
Some fled while others turned on each other, violence and corruption blazing in their eyes.
A woman screamed as her neighbor dragged her toward a burning storefront.
Two children crouched in a doorway, filthy and wide-eyed with terror.
"Seris." Daemon's voice settled against my ear, low and urgent. "Look at me."
I did. His face was spattered with blood, shadows coiling restlessly at his shoulders, but his eyes held mine steady.
"This won’t stop until we reach the source. Every second we delay, more people die."
My stomach twisted. He was right. I knew he was right. But knowing didn’t make it easier to turn away from the woman being dragged past me or the children who flinched at every shout.
"The throne," Daemon said. "End this at the throne, and you save everyone left."
Kaelen's hand landed on my shoulder, firm enough to anchor. "We'll hold the streets. That's our fight. Yours is below."
I dragged in a breath that tasted of smoke and copper, held it as if it might solidify into resolve, and nodded once.
"Good." Kaelen released me and spun toward her forces. "Malzaun, you're on escort! Move out!"
Twenty elite soldiers peeled away from the main force, forming a protective wedge around me and Daemon’s core team. Captain Malzaun took point, his scarred face grim beneath the torchlight.
"Stay close," he barked. "Kill anything that gets in the way."
We plunged into the burning streets.
The capital had transformed into something unrecognizable.
Buildings that once housed merchants and craftsmen now spilled smoke and screams. Corpses littered the cobblestones.
Dark magic coiled through the air like living smoke, thick enough that I could taste it coating my tongue. It pulsed with wrongness and hunger.
We moved fast, weaving through alleys and side streets that Daemon navigated from memory.
Kael and Kane flanked wide, clearing intersections with brutal efficiency.
They took out any soldiers but incapacitated civilians possessed by the Devourer’s power.
Zephyr moved like wind itself, there and gone, appearing at key moments to eliminate threats before they fully materialized.
A group of corrupted soldiers stumbled from a collapsed tavern, weapons raised. Squad Seven cut them down without breaking stride.
"Left here," Daemon called.
We rounded a corner and found ourselves facing a plaza filled with bodies and rubble. Across it, flames consumed what must have once been the merchant district. The heat hit us like a physical blow.
"Through!" Malzaun ordered.
We ran. My lungs burned, and my boots slipped on blood and broken stone. Beside me, Daemon's shadows expanded, forming a protective barrier that deflected falling debris. Behind us, soldiers caught arrows with their shields as Zephyr took out archers in windows.
We didn’t break stride.
The Devourer's presence thickened as we neared the castle. I felt it pressing against my senses like a drop of oil spreading through water. The Veil here didn’t just thin.
It festered. Reality itself warped at the edges, creating pockets where shadows moved independently and architecture bent in ways that defied geometry.
"There." Daemon pointed.
A nondescript building squatted between two collapsed structures, the wine cellar entrance.
Daemon had described it during planning.
His grandfather had shown it to him before his death.
It was a secret passage passed down from king to king.
His grandfather hadn’t trusted his own son and had passed the knowledge to Daemon instead.
Malzaun kicked the door open. The wood splintered easily, rotted from within. Darkness yawned beyond.
"Torches," he commanded.
Three soldiers produced light. The flames guttered and smoked in the corrupted air but held.
Daemon stepped to the threshold and paused, his expression distant. I knew that look. He wasn’t just remembering, he was being pulled under by it. A childhood shaped in shadows. Training meant to break and remake. A place in a court that had never truly been his.
"Daemon," I said softly.
His jaw tightened. He placed a hand on my shoulder without taking his eyes off the passage. Then he descended into the dark.
The group followed in tight formation, Malzaun’s squad forming a protective shell around us. The stone steps were slick with moisture and decades of neglect. Somewhere above, the sounds of battle continued, muffled screams, collapsing stone, the roar of fire consuming everything in its path.
Down here, only our footsteps echoed.
Torchlight threw wild shadows across the tunnel walls. Daemon took point while Malzaun coordinated his soldiers on the move. Kael slipped into the darkness, appearing and disappearing as he scouted ahead. Daemon led without hesitation.
"This way."
The corridor narrowed. The temperature dropped. My breath misted in the air despite the inferno raging above. I gripped tighter on the dagger Kaelen had given me as the Devourer’s presence thickened.
The passage branched. Daemon took the right without slowing.
"How far?" Kael asked.
"We’re almost there." Daemon’s voice echoed in the confined space. "We’ll exit through the storage chamber."
"How far from the throne room?" Malzaun asked.
"As long as we don’t run into the castle guard, less than two minutes."
I heard one of the soldiers to my left take a slow, measured breath as the air grew heavier, harder to pull into my lungs.
We descended further. The walls changed, rougher now, carved directly from bedrock. I ran my fingers along the stone and felt it vibrate with something that made my magic recoil.
The Devourer's presence pressed closer with every step. I wondered if it could feel me just as strongly.
We reached a junction where four passages converged. Daemon studied each one, expression sharp and calculating. Then he pointed to the leftmost tunnel.
"That one. We’re here."
"Shields up. Spearmen to the front. We don’t know what to expect. Stay ready," Malzaun whispered.
His soldiers moved immediately, forming a defensive front as Daemon fell back to my side.
The leftmost passage sloped upward at a steeper angle. The air grew uncomfortably warm, thick with humidity.
The torches flickered without reason.
Then, one by one, they went out.
Darkness swallowed us whole.
Up ahead, a door stood barely visible, a thin line of light bleeding from beneath it.
Malzaun raised a hand. Everyone froze, spears angled, shields lifted, breath held.
"Keep formation," he said quietly. "Eyes forward."
Daemon's hand found mine in the darkness. His fingers were ice-cold, but the contact grounded her. It reminded me that I wasn't alone. We stalked up the stairs without making a sound.
When we finally reached the door, Malzaun signaled everyone to hold. He walked up to the door alone and took a knee on a step. For a moment, we sat there as he listened for any movement on the other side.
We heard nothing. Absolute silence. The silence should have provided relief, but instead, I was more unnerved. The atmosphere inside the castle was a stark contrast to the burning city outside.
Malzaun turned around and gave us a nod that we returned.
Squad Seven formed up. Kane and Kael flanked. Zephyr melted into the rear guard where his skills would prove most useful.
Malzaun opened the door. Light blinded us for a moment, but we forced our eyes to focus. On both sides of the door were racks of food. In front of us were barrels of wine stacked on top of one another. The door had been disguised as a storage rack.
Down the hall, something stirred. Not the king. Not his guards. Something older and infinitely more patient. A sentient evil.
I took a deep breath and centered myself. I felt the Veil respond to my will.
We moved forward.