1. Chapter 1
Arwen
The universe has always felt cruel, but this time it went out of its way to prove it.
Exile was supposed to end me or free me. I was meant to disappear in the Wastes, as if correcting a mistake.
Instead of exile, I landed in a prison. Instead of feeling powerless, something inside me woke up. And now the Councilor responsible for the massive change in plans is standing outside my cell, looking far too pleased with himself.
I look back at Atticus’s unmoving form and slowly inch myself in front of him. He was still holding me when the transporter activated.
“To think,” Councilor Blaise says, stepping closer, “that I’ve caged not only the most powerful individual our nation has seen in centuries…” His eyes glitter. “…but Councilor Willshire’s prized heir as well. This couldn’t have gone better.”
The unfamiliar feeling of sin power surges under my skin in response to the threat on Atticus.
Blaise’s smile falters, a hairline crack in the smug certainty he wears so easily. He can tell that something is different.
The uncertainty rolls off him in faint, uneven waves. He doesn’t know what I am or what I’m capable of.
And that makes him nervous.
Whatever this thing is, it hums beneath my skin like it’s always been there, just out of reach. It doesn’t feel alien. If anything, it feels like me—or a part of me I never knew I had.
Blaise steps back, eyes locked on me as every ounce of my fury stretches across the space between us, and the power inside me responds, eager to surface…
Then vanishes completely.
The hum that's building cuts off, leaving a hollow echo. My limbs buzz with absence, as though something vital was ripped out before I could grab on.
I don’t move, don’t let him see the disorientation, but my ruse doesn’t work. Blaise laughs under his breath as he steps forward. “What a disappointment! I thought you had something there for a minute. Maybe you would have been better off in the Wastes.”
My jaw tightens in defiance as I speak for the first time.
“The view would be an enormous improvement.”
Maybe once his insults would have hurt, but I know my worth now.
His gaze sharpens, greedy and calculating.
“Still, a 100% rating is far too valuable to ignore. Certainly worth investigating. If you do have a useful power… we can’t have it falling into the wrong hands, can we?”
Fear slides down my spine as he glances at Atticus, unconscious on the floor.
“I see little use for Willshire’s boy. Only the convenience of removing a rather influential piece from the board.”
He raises his hands, and although I have no idea what his power is, the threat is genuine.
Something inside me shatters.
Suddenly, everything goes silent, frozen, like the universe sucked in a breath and held it.
Just as quickly it screams out, radiating from me as my power rips to the surface.
The world narrows as an orb of pure chaos bursts into being. The air around me convulses, bending as if reality itself is protesting.
A violent storm-black void, liquid and hungry, lashes outward like it’s breathing, consuming the space between me and the cell bars with an insatiable appetite.
The surge throws me back as the edges snap and tear.
It blankets the very matter around it, eating it, as if life itself is being rewritten in that small, impossible space.
It wants everything. Not to touch, not to break—only to consume.
My vision blurs, and in a heartbeat, it’s gone.
In its place is a giant, gaping hole in the metal bars of my prison cell.
The silence that follows is deafening as Blaise staggers away from the broken bars. The terror breaks through his smug veneer, and he calls for the guards.
My eyes move to Atticus. “You will not touch him,” I say, voice steady even as I try to process what just happened.
Guards rush in but hesitate as they see the hole in the cell. Blaise’s sharp, impatient glare is enough to push them forward. Rough hands seize me, cold steel biting into my wrists as they snap cuffs that look like metal bracelets shut on each hand.
Another pair moves toward Atticus, whose body remains limp as they cuff him as well.
“Power suppressors,” Blaise says as he straightens his coat and runs a hand through his blonde hair.
“Necessary precaution.”
He spins. “Take them to another cell. Keep them separated.”
Something sharp jabs me in the arm as my mind slows and my eyes fall shut.
***
Cold stone presses against my face as I regain consciousness.
At first, the pain feels far away, dulled by a haze. As my mind comes back to me, it creeps closer, demanding attention. It presses against my spine, my shoulders, the back of my skull. My mouth tastes metallic, and my tongue feels thick and useless.
Sound comes next. Muffled. Distorted.
“Arwen—Arwen!”
My name cuts through the haze. I try to move, but my limbs respond sluggishly, heavy as if they’re filled with sand.
The world swims when I force my eyes open as the memories assault me.
The Council chamber in the academy—torches flicking, eyes greedily drinking in my pain.
Maddox.
His intense stare as the potion dripped from my fingers, golden red, mixed with both our blood. His eyes steady as the world burned around us.
Maylo’s laughter, high and unhinged.
Atticus standing before his father, spine straight, voice unwavering. “She is my bond.”
My chest tightens sharply, breath hitching like I’ve been struck.
Atticus. ATTICUS! My eyes fly open.
“Arwen!”
This time, the world holds, and I release my breath in relief when I see him in the cell next to me. Unharmed.
His storm-blue eyes search me with naked urgency. His hair is disheveled—for possibly the first time in his life—and there’s dried blood at his temple that sends a spike of panic through me.
“Atticus,” I croak.
My voice sounds wrong. Weak. But his shoulders sag visibly at the sound of it.
“Thank the universe you’re awake,” he breathes.
I push myself upright, the movement slow and unsteady. My wrists ache. I look down at the shackles etched with faint symbols.
His gaze flicks over me, sharp and assessing. “Someone has us cuffed so we can’t use our power. Are you hurt?”
“I…” My head pulses as the pieces slam into place.
“Atticus,” I say urgently, scooting closer to the bars between us. “We have to get out of here.”
“Do you know where we are?” He asks, looking around at our captivity.
I draw in a steadying breath, bracing to admit that we’ve landed in the prison of his number one enemy.
Before the words can form, footsteps echo down the corridor, drawing our attention. The heavy door groans open, metal shrieking against metal, and every nerve in my body snaps to attention.
Councilor Blaise steps inside wearing a smile.
“Blaise.” Atticus is on his feet before the echo of the door fades.
He slams into the cage, hands fisting around the metal. He shakes the bars violently, breath coming fast and furious like he might tear them free through sheer will alone.
My skull still pulses from whatever they injected me with. I step back, eyes tracking Blaise’s movement. I won’t be caught unaware again.
“Honestly,” he says, faint irritation creasing his brow. “Have some decorum. You’re the heir of Pride, not some feral animal.”
He barely spares Atticus a glance.
“I do wish I could see the look on your father’s face when he’s told about your whereabouts. Caged in the dungeons of Greed.” A soft chuckle. “Alas—no one can know you’re here. Discretion is invaluable.”
He sighs like his favorite toy has been taken away.
Atticus growls and throws his shoulder into the bars again as fury rolls off him in waves. “Stay away from her!”
I force myself to speak. “What do you want with us?”
Blaise approaches my cell slowly, as his eyes travel over me without shame, like he’s calculating my value. “This could have been far more simple for you, Arwen, if you only would have submitted to Ryker.”
Atticus snaps. “Arwen would never submit to that scumbag.”
Blaise doesn’t even look at him.
“There is a delicate balance to power,” he continues. “You threaten that balance. Now, I don’t oppose volatility—provided it yields a return.”
My stomach knots as his predatory smile sharpens.
“Atticus’s father believes the solution is to remove you from the equation,” Blaise says, dismissive. “Liquidation, if you will. Crude. Shortsighted.”
He meets my eyes. “You, however, represent long-term value.”
“So what?” I snap. “You’ll keep me here? Locked up like inventory? Forever?”
Blaise chuckles softly, pleased.
“Oh no. That would be a waste of potential.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “We have plans. But first, we must understand the full scope of your capabilities. Learn how to refine them.”
His eyes gleam. The same eyes that used to provide comfort until I learned they were just pretty lies. Ryker looks so much like his father.
“Control them, you mean. Use me like a tool. Like father, like son.” I say, scathing.
“You are pure destruction,” he says. “And destruction—when properly directed—is immensely profitable.”
The words slice through me as his intentions register. He wants to use me to hurt people. To control me and maximize his power and influence.
A year ago, I was invisible. Safe in my smallness. Everyone looked at me like nothing, if they bothered to look at all.
Now he’s talking about turning me into a force that devours the world.
“I won’t do it.” I force my voice steady despite the pounding of my heart. “You might as well keep me locked in here and throw away the key.”
Blaise’s smile doesn’t fade as he looks to Atticus.
“Oh, I think you can be… compelled.”
The realization hits like a blade to the gut. He’s using Atticus as his leverage. He has me, and he knows it from the way I protected him.
“We’ll begin first thing tomorrow. I’d advise you to rest. Big investments require hard work.” Blaise says. He turns and walks out, the door slamming shut with finality.
Terror grips me in a vice. I’m not afraid of what he’ll do to me. I’m afraid of what he will make me do to the world.