Chapter 39 #2
The sun sinks slowly behind the horizon, dragging the warmth with it, leaving the sky bruised with shadow.
Stars begin to prick through the darkening expanse as I lift my gaze, the cool evening air brushing against my skin.
Beside me, the ritual is laid out exactly as Vesperas' memory dictated—except for the bodies.
Animal skulls form a perfect circle, interspersed with the stones Malrik scavenged from his collection, each one humming faintly with latent energy.
The only items missing are the sacrifices Vespera used with him. The blood of the betrayer, the bearer of light and purity, a warrior, a demon, a shifter. I’m hoping that was needed to create the very darkness she has inside her.
I draw in a deep breath, silently willing this to work. All that’s left is Drew—his blood, shared with Darian as brothers, the perfect link for the spell to trace their bloodline and pull the darkness free.
This has to work.
My mother would hate this—what I’m risking.
Before she died, she told me to keep running, and I did—for seven long years.
I trained hard, stayed alone, and kept my heart guarded.
In the end, even in such a short time, I've built a life I wouldn’t trade for anything.
I finally have something worth fighting for.
“Alright, I’m here to offer up my blood.” Drew comes out of the house where the others are getting ready, his steps unhurried. He stops in front of me, giving me a long once-over and that constant frown of his eases just enough as his teeth catch on his bottom lip.
“Little Red… all black suits you,” he says, shaking his head.
I look down at myself for a second before meeting his gaze again.
Black jeans hug my legs, combat boots, a laced-up bodysuit…
and Kieran’s massive leather jacket draped over my shoulders.
Before I even stepped outside, Kieran hadn’t said a word; he’d just shrugged and placed it on me, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Always dramatic,” I tease, and he slaps a hand over his chest like I’ve insulted his entire existence.
“Me? Never. I just… hate blood,” he protests, rolling his eyes at my smirk.
I beckon him closer, and he steps up until he’s standing right in front of me, shoulders tense but trust clear in his stance. “I only need a few drops,” I say softly, crouching down to grab the small bowl. My fingers tighten around the handle of my enchanted dagger strapped to my side.
“You know what you're doing, right?” his eyes narrow as I rise to my feet.
“I do,” I reply firmly. “One of the first things my mother taught me was how to siphon magic from someone. This… is harder. Dark magic isn’t just strong—it's corrupt, twisted and unnatural. But Drew…” I pause, searching for the right words. “No matter what, I’ll get your brother back for you.”
He watches my face for a long beat, wary but choosing to trust me anyway, then gives a single, tight nod.
“I trust you,” he lifts his hand. I slip the bowl beneath it, dagger poised. No hesitation—I don't give him the chance to rethink. The blade kisses his skin in a clean, quick cut, and he hisses sharply, shoulders jerking tight as the first drop of blood falls.
“See? Not so bad.” He sticks his tongue out, and I can't resist doing the same.
I set the bowl carefully in the centre once I have enough blood and reach for the bandage I brought.
“That shit fucking hurts,” he groans, holding his hand like I’d just tried to rip it off. I just start wrapping the bandage around it, keeping my tone light.
“Oh, you big baby. It’s just a scratch.” He jerks his hand back before I can finish, making me laugh despite myself.
He flexes his hand. “Warn me next time.”
I shake my head at him, a glint of ease settling in my chest—but it's short-lived.
The air shifts, dropping to a bone-deep chill, and the door slams open with a violent crash.
Ronan, Kieran and Malrik emerge, Daleyza trailing behind them, her face pale as a ghost. They move toward me, urgency radiating from every step.
“She broke through the spell,” Malrik says, his voice low, controlled, but his red eyes blaze with a warning I can feel deep inside me. I catch the way his gaze rolls over me, the tension and worry there—not for himself, but for me.
There’s no turning back now.
I press my fingers into my palms, letting my magic curl through me, spiralling along my nerves as it rises.
The air around me vibrates with powerful energy, a low hum building into a pulse that sets my teeth on edge.
The skies darken further, heavy clouds churning above as distant thunder growls and faint lightning runs across the sky.
Kieran’s stormy grey eyes lock onto mine, wrestling with everything he feels as he watches the power surge through me.
“Cherry,” Ronan rasps, just as the first cold drops of rain begin to fall. I lift my eyes to his, trying to steady my voice.
“It’s okay… just go. Now.” The words slip out, breaking on a tremor I can't control. I can't force anything else past my lips—not when I'm staring at him and Malrik, my chest caving under the weight of what I’m about to do.
My heart aches, splitting in two for the choice I have no other option but to make. All I want—need—is to be with them, to feel safe and free.
Even after this, Vespera will still have to die—but the thought that the deadliest monster of all, the one who’s haunted me since before I was born, is terrifying. My eyes darted to Kieran, silently begging him to take Ronan away, because I can’t bring myself to ask him to leave again.
Kieran studies me, his storm-grey eyes softening, then he turns to Ronan. “She’s okay. Let’s go.”
Ronan’s jaw tightens, but Kieran doesn’t hesitate. He grips his arms and hauls him away, pulling him further into the shadows of the forest. Ronan glances back, worry on his face, and I feel sick as the space between us grows, unbearably vast.
And then… there’s only Malrik.
He stalks over to me, his fingers digging into the back of my neck, ignoring Daleyza and Drew like they don’t exist. His red eyes burn into mine, dark and unyielding.
“You come back to me. Wherever you go, I go. Whatever hell you walk into… I follow. Always.”
His lips claim mine with a feral hunger, devouring me entirely.
Tongues collide in a fierce, heated dance as a throaty groan rumbles through him, his body pressing hard against mine.
He sinks his teeth into my tongue, drawing my blood.
Power ignites in him like wildfire, dark and electric, and I tremble beneath the surge.
I just want to kiss him forever.
He pulls back, lips glistening with the taste of me, a dark, satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“I’ll see you soon, little witch.” He vanishes, too.
Just like that, the last fragile pieces of my heart slip after him, tethered to the chaos and fire that is him.
The rain drizzles down, soaking everything around us as I glance at Drew and Daleyza.
“I want you two in the house.”
Drew immediately protests, stepping toward me. “I think the fuck not. We’re here to protect you.”
“I’ll feel better knowing you're both hidden inside,” I insist. Daleyza gives me a small, understanding glance, but Drew isn’t having any of it.
“No. I’m not leaving you.”
My heart is pounding; the thought of him or his sister getting hurt because of me kills me.
“We don’t have time for this, Drew.” I snap.
A shout rips through the air, and my head snaps toward the sound. There, in the distance, they stand—Vespera and her guards, the Veilguard, flanking her with deadly precision. Ronan, Malrik, and Kieran are caught in the centre, bracing themselves.
I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering, and I quickly turned back to Drew and Daleyza. “Get in the house,” I whisper, my voice tight with urgency.
This time, they move without protest, slipping inside with careful, silent steps, their eyes darting to me one last time before disappearing. I exhale, the storm of fear and determination winding tighter inside me, knowing the real fight is just beginning.
I lower myself onto the ground, settling inside the circle, the bowl and dagger poised before me.
More keep appearing, flooding the clearing, and panic rushes through me. There’s no way they can win—not like this. It’s impossible.
I can’t hear them over the pounding of my heart, but I can see every shadowed movement in the darkness. A part of me wants to give up, to throw myself into the fight, to destroy them all before they can touch the people I love. But then I see him.
Darian.
He steps forward from the crowd, every movement too measured.
The boy I love, but not him—never him, not like this.
The darkness has hollowed him out, wrapped around him like shackles, and I feel it even from here, pressing into my ribs, suffocating me.
But the shadows clinging to him… they terrify me.
That kind of power—so unnatural—is supposed to only belong to shadow demons.
Yet it’s here, entwined with him, feeding our connection in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
I can feel it tugging at him, twisting him, something she never saw coming—and I need to save him more than ever.
The bond is pulling, begging me to run to him—but he stands at Vesperas' side, eyes empty, and I know. I cannot let this end with him lost to her.
So, I close my eyes and turn inward.
My magic surges up like a storm breaking its cage, searing through my veins, sparking under my skin, aching to be unleashed.
I press my fingers harder into the dagger, my other hand sinking into the blood.
Heat flares immediately, crawling up my arm as my blood hisses against the blade, light spilling from the contact like liquid fire.
The circle awakens.
The ground beneath me trembles as ancient runes flare to life, cut into the earth by forces older than memory.
A low vibration hums through the air, the storm above answering my call—clouds splitting open, lightning flashing overhead.
The rain falls harder, soaking into the earth, steam rising where it touches the circles' glowing lines.
I whisper the incantation, ancient words spilling like venom off my tongue, and my magic obeys, the storm above groaning in response. But the moment the circle surges with a bright light, I hear it. The clashing of steel. The unmistakable sound of war breaking loose.
My eyes snap open.
Ronan is a whirlwind of fury, his blade flashing like lightning, cutting down three of the Veilguard in one.
Sparks fly as steel collides, his teeth bared in a snarl, every strike a release of unyielding rage.
Kieran moves with brutal precision—calm, ruthless—his sword slicing through a soldier’s throat, dark blood spraying across the soaked mud.
And then there’s Malrik.
He doesn’t fight like them. He tears through them with his bare hands, ripping two hearts out so fast their bodies are still standing when he drops the pulsing remains at his feet.
The others rush him, brave or foolish, but they don’t even touch him.
His eyes glow like embers as his power explodes outward, and the guards freeze mid-charge—screaming, scratching at their faces as blood pours from their eyes, their noses, their mouths.
One by one, they collapse in twitching heaps, silence following them.
But they don’t stop coming. More and more of the Veilguard surge forward, endless as a tide, their blades flashing in the storm light. And still, Vespera doesn’t lift a finger. She just stands there—smiling—as though the slaughter unfolding before her is nothing more than a game.
Beside her, Darian scans through the chaos, searching, hunting—for me. The pull between us is painful, and I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from breaking the ritual.
I know what she’s doing. She isn’t trying to kill them. Not yet. No, Vespera is far crueller than that. She’s wearing them down, bleeding them of their strength, forcing them to fight until exhaustion takes hold of them.
And I—gods help me—I can’t do a single thing to stop it.