Chapter 29
RAVENA
The door swung open with a loud crash. There she stood—my grandmother.
Her presence hit me like a blade of ice, cold and suffocating, swallowing the air whole. Flanked by guards who moved like shadows, she stepped inside with the slow, absolute certainty of a predator who knew she owned everything in the room.
Behind her, a creature slithered forward—her familiar, but no ordinary beast. A massive black panther, sleek as midnight, with three glowing eyes burning bright yellow.
The middle eye stared unblinking, unfocused, yet it felt like it pierced straight through me, reading every secret I thought I’d hidden.
“Don’t look into its third eye.”
This wasn’t just a familiar. It was something twisted, something darker—something born of nightmares and malice.
Her gaze locked with mine—cold, merciless, and utterly without a shred of humanity. I wobbled on shaky legs but forced myself to stand, stepping between Kieran, Ronan and the ones who threaten my loved ones. My body screamed in protest, every muscle burning, every joint aching.
“You must be the witch they’ve been hiding,” she says, voice smooth and venomous, a quiet promise of destruction.
I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms. Fury roared beneath my skin, but beneath that fire, something colder gnawed at me—a hollow, haunting ache.
How could someone so monstrous resemble my mother?
The resemblance was like a twisted mirror, but the soul behind it was fractured, soaked in darkness and power.
Kieran’s hand finds my leg, steady and firm. That small, grounding touch cut through the storm crashing inside me, reminding me who I was fighting for.
I pushed my head back, eyes hard. “You're the bitch I've been dying to kill,” I spat.
Vespera tilts her head, that snake-like smile stretching wider—slow, deliberate, like a predator savouring the moment before striking. The guards behind her tensed, but she raised a hand, halting them with a simple, commanding gesture.
“You wouldn’t be the first to want me dead,” her eyes roamed over me. “There's something… familiar about you.”
I stay perfectly still, eyes flicking to the two guards moving closer. The Vesperas's low, mirthless chuckle cuts through the air, catching me off guard.
“The woman who’s supposed to be more powerful than me...” She murmurs, her fingers gliding lazily over the sleek head of her panther. “How quaint. And impossible.”
“Not impossible,” I said back without hesitation.
Her dark eyes flash a deep, inhuman midnight black—and in an instant, the air shifts.
Heavy. Choked with the weight of dark magic so dense it wraps around my ribs and tightens.
It’s worse than my daggers pull. Worse than Darian's shadows that linger within him. I knew she was poisoning him with the darkness, but standing here now, I see it. She isn’t just tainting him.
She is the darkness.
And that's when it hits me—Darian isn't just influenced or following orders; he’s hers. Bound, twisted, and controlled, she is shaping him into a monster that she can wield like a weapon. There must be a reason why someone as powerful as she is would do this to Darian.
“Xarothar,” I called to him silently.
“We are ready.”
I breathe deeply, pushing past the tension until I find it—that silver thread. The steady, humming connection between us. Our magic begins to stir, winding together like it belongs. She steps closer, her steady gaze on me, her panther looking towards Ronan, who is still lying on the floor.
Kieran’s hand tightens around my leg, but I don’t move. I can’t take my eyes off her for a second because who knows what she will do.
Something crosses her face, recognition. “You’re Selene’s daughter.”
She knows. It’s pretty hard to miss. It’s in my face, my fire—everything my mother was, without the curse of my father’s blood.
Fuck that guy.
I meet her stare, unflinching. “You don’t get to say her name.”
She’s the reason my mother suffered.
Vespera never cared. Never noticed when Selene was dragged away by the vampire King—tortured, experimented on and raped for years. All because he wanted to play God and try to create a new species. A weapon to take over all the realms, just like he tried before the Ashen War.
Vespera didn’t give a fuck about my mother.
“Why not?” she taunts. “She was my daughter, after all.”
That’s it.
I reach inward, grasping the silver thread that connects me to Xarothar, and I pull—hard.
A surge of power escapes from the locked chamber within me, deep, buried, and restless.
It seeps through the cracks like a shadow slipping away from fading light.
The lights flicker around us, and something dark stirs in the corner.
She hums, low and satisfied, as the guards behind her shift uneasily, their hands twitching toward their weapons they won’t live long enough to draw. I sink deeper into the power inside me, gripping it tight. Thunder cracks overhead, causing the floor to shake.
She glances behind me to where Ronan is still
“You’re far more powerful than Selene ever was.” She pauses, and I didn’t notice it before, but the very rock I saw her use to kill the dragons sits around her neck.
“I’ve found the stone.”
“What stone, Raven?”
“The stone that wiped out your kind.”
I need it away from her.
“She was a disappointment.”
The lights above us stutter, reacting to my mood, and I’m pissed that she would call my mother weak. She went to hell and back, and she survived everything that was thrown at her, even enduring a poisonous bitch of a mother like Vespera.
One of the guards crept along the far wall—slow, subtle, like I wouldn’t see him moving towards Ronan.
But I see everything.
I reach for the air around him, it’s thin and invisible, but I can feel it.
My magic wraps around him, crushing his throat before he can take his next breath.
His hands fly up, clawing at nothing. I hold him there, feeling the pressure tighten with every frantic gasp.
Then, with a flick of thought, I whip the air around him like a snapping wire.
He slams into the wall with a crack of bone and plaster, but I don't take my eyes off Vespera for a second.
“One more step toward Ronan or Kieran, and I’ll kill every last one of you.” The thunder outside cracks like a warning shot.
But Vespera laughs, a gleam in her eye like she’s enjoying this.
“Let’s skip the performance, shall we? Answer my question, and I’ll grant you and the hunters who broke my laws a quick death.” She looks me over. “Refuse… and I’ll make you watch me peel them apart in front of you. Piece by piece. I’ll make sure their screams are the last thing you ever hear.”
The dark magic around her thickens—twisting, restless—like it's eager to start.
“Temptress.” Kieran’s voice is pained, and when I look down, I see him clutching his chest, white-knuckled. Her magic is hurting him.
I look back up. “Stop it.”
Vespera steps forward, her panther doing the same. Its massive paws press softly against the floor, but I know how easily it could tear me apart.
“Will you answer?”
I hold myself still. “That depends on the question.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why is King Draeven after you?”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
She clicks her tongue. Kieran curses, pain raw in his voice.
“Last chance,” she says. “Answer me, or I will break him.”
“He’s almost there.” A flicker of relief floods through me.
I need the right answer that doesn’t give anything away—because Kieran’s life is hanging by a thread. And because he’ll know if I lie.
I shift my hand, resting it near the dagger at my side.
“I stole something from him.”
Vespera studies me silently, her gaze crawling over every inch of me. Behind me, there’s no sound, which means she’s not yet decided if she believes me or not.
“What did you steal? Because I don’t appreciate vampires coming into my kingdom as if they belong here.”
I meet her stare head-on, a slow shrug rolling off my shoulders.
“No idea. Some object with unknown magic.”
Not exactly a lie. And I make sure my tone stays cool, almost bored—like she isn’t moments away from killing Kieran.
A bolt of pain shoots up my spine, searing straight into my skull. I flinch before I can stop myself. Vespera's lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk. She’s using her magic on me—testing how far she can push me to break.
“No matter,” she says. “You’re too much of a threat. And I can’t have that.”
The pressure deepens, like needles pricking into my nerves. I grit my teeth, biting back the scream trying to make its way up my throat.
Where the fuck is Malrik?
I just have to hold on. Long enough to keep her from touching them—or killing me before I can get them out. I drag in a harsh breath, my throat raw. And then—like a shadow at my back, I feel Xarothar pressing against my mind.
“The crazy one is here.”
A pulse of relief cuts through the pain.
Thank the stars.
“Now, Raven.”
The moment my magic touches Xarothars, it erupts, twisting around the silver thread that binds us.
Power thrums through me, fierce and insatiable, and I unleash it.
The wind tears through the chamber, shrieking against the stone walls.
Thunder cracks like the sky itself is fracturing, hurling dust and splinters of rock around us.
The storm outside crashes in—mirroring the fire roaring inside me.
Pain stabs me again, but I shove it down and push harder.
Vespera lifts her face to the rain as it pours through the broken roof and laughs, like this is all some twisted game.
“If you were my daughter… things would’ve turned out very differently.”
A cough spills out of me, the taste of copper hits my tongue as something inside me strains, crushing under her magic.
I blink, clearing the haze, and push back.
Shadows slip from the edges of the room—dark, twirling tendrils moving toward the guards and hunters.