Chapter 28
RAVENA
The council gates loom ahead, iron and cold, and I can sense the hunters inside waiting for me.
The wind cuts against me as I halt just beyond the gates, the storm restless in my blood.
My fingers twitch at my sides, not from fear, but from the pressure building in my chest, coiled and snarling like it already knows what's coming.
They think I’m just a girl. A weak little witch. They don't know I’ve spent twenty-three years running from a monster. Surviving when I was never meant to
I stepped closer to the towering gates, lifted my hands, and let the magic rise. It surged through me—wild and primal, coiled beneath my skin like a living thing, begging to be set free.
Not just power.
My birthright.
And this time, I didn’t hold back.
With a breath, I closed my eyes and let my magic out.
It spilt from my palms in a whisper of frost, winding its way towards the iron gates with deadly elegance.
Ice laced over the metal in delicate tendrils at first, curling like vines—then surged, fast and merciless.
The temperature plummeted. The steel groaned in protest as the frost consumed it, spreading in a lacework of crystalline veins that shimmered in the light.
A low crackle hissed in the air—the barriers enchantment flaring to life, electricity arching in wild streaks toward me.
But the ice rose to meet it, swallowing the current before it could touch my skin.
My magic climbed higher, faster, hungrier, encasing the entire gate in a glistening, glass-like shell.
Crack.
A single fracture split through the centre.
With a thunderous shatter, the frozen gate exploded outward, fragments raining down in jagged shards, echoing like a battle cry. The air filled with the strong scent of ozone and frozen metal, the cold biting deep in my lungs.
The front doors of the building slammed open with a bang, and the hunters poured out. Their eyes locked on me—vengeful, ready for blood.
Oh goodie.
Fury rolled off me in waves, but underneath it, buried like a splinter beneath skin, was something worse. Guilt. Vespera had touched them—broken them—and it was my fault. They were suffering because of me. And Darian had every reason to hate me for it.
The thought only fuelled my rage further.
I pushed myself forward, each step carving agony through my ribs. My muscles trembled, worn thin by pain and battle, but I kept going. Because giving in meant giving her more. And I was done surrendering.
The first hunter pounced. But he was too slow.
I pivoted, letting instinct and magic take over. The air shimmered around me as my blade slid into my hand, pulsing with that familiar violet light. Sculptured with starlit runes and forged for more than just blood—it was made for souls.
I spun, driving it clean into his chest
His breath hitched—once. Then the blade drank deep.
His soul was torn from his body in a rush of wind and light, sucked into the blade like gravity itself had demanded it. Before I could even wrench the dagger free, another hunter came barrelling toward me—fast, reckless, all rage and no control.
I reached for the second blade at my hip. The cold hilt felt familiar against my palm. As his wild swing cut through the air, I dropped low, twisting beneath it. My blade snapped upward—slicing clean through the muscle of his thigh.
He screamed, staggering, and I didn’t feel anything.
Closing the distance, eyes never leaving his, I drive the blade into his gut with merciless force.
The sound is wet, guttural, and beautiful.
His lips part in a broken sob as blood gushes over my hand, and a twisted satisfaction spreads through me.
I press harder, savouring the way his body buckles before me.
He collapses, gurgling, the fight draining from him, and I watch the light die in his eyes. But there's no time to linger. Two more of them close in, flanking me, weapons raised, faces twisted with grim determination. My lungs burn, chest heaving—but I don't cower away.
I welcome it.
I pull the dagger out, slam my palm to the ground, and the earth shudders beneath me, answering my rage.
Fire lashes up from the soil, a wild, snapping inferno that races outward, scorching everything in its path.
The hunters freeze, their faces twisting in disbelief, but it's already too late.
The flames seize them, wrapping around their bodies, devouring them.
Smoke and heat curl into the air—and I let myself smile.
The fire roared around me, but something inside me snapped. Pain ripped through my body, stealing the air from my lungs. Heat prickled at my skin, blurring the edges of my vision into white-hot chaos. I staggered back, lips trembling, the world tilting sideways.
“Raven, stop. Don’t tap into my magic yet,” Xarothar's voice echoed through my mind, tight with alarm—and something dangerously close to panic. “You’re not ready. You’ll burn yourself out.”
“You don’t think I know that? But there's a bloody army on me, Xarothar.”
I spun just as another hunter charged at me, my foot slamming into his chest. The impact sent him skidding back, limbs flailing. Before he could find his footing, my blade was already slicing forward. Another soul ripped from a useless body.
A body slammed into me from the side, knocking the air from my lungs as we crashed to the ground.
My back struck hard, pain ripping up my spine in a sharp, electric jolt.
For one raw, breathless second, everything stopped—I couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything.
Just pain and weight and the echo of impact ringing through my bones.
“Raven—”
“I’ve got it.” I clench my teeth together as the hunter scrambles to pin me.
“Shit,” I hissed as his dagger plunged down.
I catch the blade, steel slicing into my palm.
His hand clamps around my throat, crushing, but I buck my hips hard, flipping him beneath me.
He doesn't let go. Doesn't stop. I rip the dagger from his grip, ramming it straight into his eye.
The crunch, the wet pop, the flood of blood—his scream tears out of him, but I drive it deeper, twisting until his body thrashes under me like a dying insect.
Another down.
The remaining hunters come for me, as I look up from the ground.
A snarl rips free as the power rises, spilling out of me in a rush I can't contain.
The ground shakes beneath my feet, splitting open in sharp cracks that race toward the hunters.
I hurl my arm forward, and the magic detonates, a brutal force tearing through the yard, shredding everything in its path.
The hunters didn’t stand a chance.
They went flying—slamming into the stone walls before falling onto the floor, all of them scattered like broken chess pieces. I stood in the aftermath, every muscle in my body burning with effort. Power still thrummed through me, but I held my ground as I refused to fall.
“Raven, what did you do?”
“I don’t have time,” I try catching my breath. “I’m done holding back.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed. And I refuse to be bonded to a corpse.”
“I need to save them.”
I limped forward, ignoring the screaming ache in my legs, the fire in my lungs. The ache didn’t matter. None of it did.
Not while they were still inside with her.
No matter what, I have to save them. There was a time when the thought of dying terrified me—not because of death itself, but what could happen if I did. The fear used to hold me back, used to keep me clinging to life like a coward.
But not anymore.
Fear was just another enemy to cut down.
Flames licked at my fingertips as I stormed forward, blades hungry for blood. The moment I crossed the threshold, something unseen slammed into me. My body whipped back, crashing into the wall with a bone-deep crack that stole the air from my lungs and made my eyes water.
A witch stood poised on the staircase, watching me like I was her personal entertainment.
I didn’t recognise her. I didn't care. If she were in my way, she was already dead.
I pushed off the wall, rolling my shoulders to shake the ache from my bones.
My head pulsed, but I barely blinked, eyes locked on hers.
“Move. Now.” I lick my dry lips. “Or I’ll kill you where you stand.”
Either way, she’s dead.
But instead, she just laughs at me.
Well, fuck her.
Dark skin, long black hair, and burning red eyes that gleamed with arrogance. She was confident—too confident.
“You aren’t strong enough to take me.”
Oh, she was mistaken.
A slow, dangerous grin spreads across my face as the temperature around us plummets.
Frost hisses across the floor like a curse.
The chandeliers above rattle in protest as the wind howls to life, swirling around her in a tightening spiral.
She raises her hand, magic crackling at her fingertips—dark and chaotic—but it's already too late.
I subtly jerked my head, and the wind slammed into her like a fist, dragging her toward me, feet scraping uselessly against the floor. Her mouth opened to scream or curse me, but she's too slow, and that's what you get for underestimating me.
My blade hovered at her throat, feather-light, before driving in with ruthless precision.
Her eyes went wide, disbelief twisting her features as a strangled cry tore from her lips.
Blood spilt over me. Her magic flared in a desperate, futile burst—but it didn't matter.
The dagger drank her soul, ravenous, ripping the life from her with the same feral hunger that churned deep inside me.
I leaned in close just before she dropped to the ground, voice soft and sweet.
“You were saying?”