Chapter 26
RAVENA
The guilt eats me alive as I sprint through the trees, my breath ragged, the cold air biting at my skin. Branches lash at my arms and legs, but I don’t slow down. I just threw on whatever was closest, pulled my boots on, grabbed the dagger and ran for it.
I left Malrik with nothing but a kiss and the truth that I couldn’t say out loud: this might be goodbye.
He wanted to come. Of course, he did, he’s a possessive, reckless idiot, but he’s mine, and I want to protect him. I needed him when the time was right, even if he hated the plan.
I should have walked away when I had the chance.
Told them all to fuck off. Should've ignored Ronan, with those maddeningly pretty blue eyes and that infuriating charm—the kind of warmth that makes you forget cold even exists.
The kind I hadn't realised I'd been starving for until it sank into my bones.
But I couldn’t walk away because I found people whom I cared for. And a beautiful man whom I think I’m falling in love with.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
We never had a real plan—just desperation and a half-formed idea about getting Vespera's blood. But they were supposed to be safe. That was the one thing I needed. The one thing I thought I could protect.
But they’re not safe. Not even close.
And I can feel it—like a thread being ripped from my chest. She’s hurting him. Maybe even killing him. He doesn’t deserve that. Not Ronan. Not the one who chose to protect me when he had every reason to run.
Rage simmers under my skin, tangled with panic. If she takes him from me—any one of them—there’ll be nothing left worth saving. No mercy. I will tear the world apart to destroy her.
Piece by piece.
“Remember, Raven. Don’t tap into the magic until I say so.”
“I remember.” My heart is hammering in my chest.
Finally breaking through the treeline, I don’t stop to catch my breath.
The city of Astrithal lies ahead, the sun beaming down from the sky.
Witches wander the cobbled roads, chatting and shopping as if there’s nothing wrong in the world.
A few turn to stare as I sprint past—mud on my boots, scratches on my skin.
I skid to a stop, gravel biting into the soles of my boots.
Hunters. Armed and armoured, moving with brutal purpose—straight toward Ronan’s apartment.
Panic punches through my chest.
Only the twins will be inside.
One of the hunters lifts his leg and drives it into the door.
“No—no, no, no—”
The door shatters under his weight, glass raining down onto the floor. They flood inside the apartment building, weapons drawn, bloodthirst carved into their faces.
They will kill them.
Pain hits me in the gut, and I know I need to save Ronan and Kieran, but I can’t let the twins die. Darian would never recover from that loss.
I force my legs to move. “Raven, what the hell are you doing?” Xarothar's voice is a rumble of irritation and warning in my mind.
“Having a nice jog,” I pant. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re about to get yourself killed being reckless.”
I leap over the crumpled remains of the front door.
“I won’t let them die.”
He growls inside my head, but I block him out. I don’t have time for him to argue with me about this. Because if those twins die, Darian won’t recover. He’ll shatter, and as much as he pretends to feel nothing and lets the darkness take him—I know better.
I take the stairs two at a time, the dagger strapped to my thigh slips easily into my hand, the blade and magic familiar as it slides against my skin.
The door to the twins’ apartment is barely clinging to its hinges. I hear shouting—Drew's voice, furious and cracking.
“Get away from my sister, you fucking pricks.”
I grit my teeth, trying to ignore the pain.
“You’re going to have to fight, Raven. Use the dagger. Do not use any of your magic until you’re near Vespera—or so help me, I’ll tear through the realms and kill you myself.”
“You will not. We have no idea if she still has that stone. Sit your scaly arse down and stay put.”
His presence slips from my mind, but I still worry that he won’t listen and turn up anyway.
I step inside and freeze. Eight hunters stand in the room, one of them has Daleyza by the hair, her face twisted in pain. Another has Drew cornered, blood trickling from his mouth as he yells at them to let her go. But they’re not listening. They think they have all the power here.
Cute.
Then one of them backhands Drew—hard.
My vision tunnels. And that’s all it takes for me to move.
The enchanted dagger is already flying through the air before the bastard who hit Drew can blink. It buries itself in his chest, the magic doing its job and sucking his soul out. His body convulses before hitting the ground, and that’s when the rest notice me.
Two of them that are closest lunge first, both taller, broader and pull out their blades.
The one to my right goes for me first. I duck under his swing, dart in close, and grab his wrist. His momentum does half the work—I twist hard and feel the bones grind, then use my entire body weight to drag him down to the floor.
He crashes forward—just where I want him.
My knee slams into his face, a crack echoing as his nose shatters.
Stupidly, I used my air to shove the other man who tried reaching for me backwards till he hit the wall across the room, knocking down another man with him.
A pain rushes through my head, but I ignore it as I grab another dagger from my thigh sheaf and slam it into his exposed neck.
Warm blood sprays as I pull it free and let him slump forward.
The second man shouts something I can’t quite make out and charges at me like a bull.
Dumbass.
I sidestep him smoothly and slam my heel into the side of his knee.
He buckles, cursing loudly, and I use his lowered height to my advantage—driving the dagger straight into his kidney.
He snarls, swinging blindly, but I move just in time and pivot behind him, slicing his throat as I eye the others.
He gurgles as he falls forward, clutching at his neck to try and stop the bleeding.
And as I straighten fully, I notice Drew smiling at me, even if I am probably covered in that idiot’s blood.
Three down already.
The magic rises in me like a tidal wave, hot and relentless, begging to be let loose. I fight it—barely—until I see the blade pressed to Daleyza's throat.
I freeze.
The air thickens, chilling and heavy, as my power stirs beneath my skin, feeding on my fury. Shadows crawl along the walls, the room shrinking around me, while the wind outside howls louder, echoing the storm building inside.
“Let them go,” I step forward. “I’m the one you want, not them.”
Drew's eyes snap to mine, wild with panic. “Ravena, don’t be stupid—get out of here.”
Ah shit, the names out and by the looks of the white-haired hunter holding Drew, he recognises it too.
Daleyza doesn’t move, but the look that crosses her face tells me she knows exactly what I’m about to do. She’s bracing for it.
I tilt my head and let out a slow, almost bored smile curl on my lips. “What’s wrong?” I taunt the dickhead who grips Drew harder. “Scared?”
They shift, uncertain, which is all I need.
“Come and get me,” I breathe, then launch into action.
The moment my fingers close around the hilt of the purple-bladed dagger, pain explodes across my cheek—a fist connects, snapping my head to the side.
I stagger back, but don’t fall. Don’t stop.
I can’t. My arm whips forward, pure muscle memory from my training back in Zyphora, and the blade sails clean through his throat.
His eyes go wide—then vacant—as his soul tears free in a silent scream I can feel in my bones. The body drops with a thud.
I drop low just as the other attackers move for me.
I quickly leap forward, planting my boot against one’s thigh and pushing off—vaulting up high enough to swing over the second.
My thighs clamp tight around his neck as I twist midair, using my momentum like a whip.
There’s a sickening snap, and he begins crumpling to the floor with me, but before I can land, the last one tackles me from behind.
We slam onto the floor, his weight knocking the air from my lungs as we skid hard across broken glass and blood-slick laminate.
His hand goes for my throat, a proud smile on his ugly face because he thinks he’s won.
“The queen will have so much fun with you,” he sneers, hand tightening around my throat.
I hear Drew call my name again, the panic in his voice. It makes me feel uneasy, sick that he’s worried about me.
But I will never let Vespera have me, and I won’t let them get hurt.
She will never get the chance.
Sorry, Xarothar.
I press my palm flat against his chest. It doesn’t register to him what I am about to do—until it’s too late.
“Have fun in hell.”
My magic lashes out, a silent command through my bloodstream.
Heat blooms beneath my hand, then erupts.
He jerks, eyes wide as fire floods in his veins.
His scream tears through the air, high and choking as blood bubbles from his nose, ears, eyes—every fragile place magic can find.
His skin blisters, boils rising and splitting as he tries to rip away from me—but I hold him there, teeth clenched, as I watch him die in front of me.
The stench of burning flesh thickens the air as my magic pulses through every fibre of me.
By the time he crumples to the floor next to me, he’s nothing more than a twitching heap of scorched muscle and melted meat.
Gross. I’m sick of guts and blood to last a lifetime.
A splintering headache crashes against my skull. I bite down hard on my lip to hold back a whimper or cry. Biting my tongue, I force myself upright, clutching the dagger like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to this moment.