CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The crowd was already a thick, restless sea in the bleachers, anticipation crackling through the air like static.
My heart pounded so hard I could feel the thud of it in my teeth.
The alcohol haze from the tent was long gone, replaced by a cold, sharpening dread. Utter, fucking dread.
"You undermine the Darkling," Aether muttered beside me.
He padded close, his golden eyes narrowing into slits as he surveyed the field.
I had practically begged him for moral support, and he'd come, though his feline pride made him act like he was doing me a grand favor. Across the pitch, Zya was already watching Asher, poised and tense like a coiled spring.
I couldn't sit. I paced the sidelines, my hands trembling, eyes glued to the shadowed figure already waiting at center field.
Asher stood in the half-light, shoulders loose, grin lethal, looking every bit the prince of the void. His scent reached me even through the damp air: smoke, steel, and shadow.
"Hey."
Ezra's voice came from my side, softer than the chaos around us. Before I could turn, he draped his heavy jacket over my shoulders and pressed a steaming cup into my hands.
His scent washed over me too—not the ruin and smoke of Asher's shadows, but something else entirely.
Spice and citrus, sun-warmed heat, like the very edge of summer before the clouds roll in. It didn't consume; it steadied, wrapping me in a warmth I hadn't realized I needed.
I blinked at him, then managed a faint, tired smile. "Thank you."
"Drink it," he said simply, his sunset-orange eyes fixed on the field.
I lifted the cup, inhaling the steam. My eyes widened. "Is this… butterscotch?"
His mouth tilted in a crooked grin. "Yeah. You carry on about it enough between classes. Figured you needed the sugar hit."
A small laugh escaped me, weak but real. "Didn't think you were listening."
"It's hard not to listen with Ember yapping over you half the time," he teased, taking a sip of his own coffee.
That made me laugh for real, the tension breaking for one blissful breath.
"You don't have to keep me company, Ezra," I murmured, pulling the oversized jacket tighter around my frame.
"I know. But Asher would kill me if I didn't," he said dryly, his expression softening as he looked at me. "And besides—I wanted to."
I finally looked at him properly.
His auburn hair was mussed by the wind, an easy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, but those eyes… gods.
They were like embers still smoldering in a bed of ash. He was beautiful in a way that felt grounded and safe.
"And… you stood up for me earlier," I said quietly, the memory of him facing down Jeremy in the tent flickering in my mind. "That meant more than you know."
He nodded once, his gaze shifting back to Asher. “Yeah, well. You chose him. But I respect you just as much as I respect him.”
My throat caught.
"I've always been his second," Ezra continued, his voice steady.
"I protect him. He protects me. “He’s my brother.
Not by blood, but in every way that matters and I'd never betray that.
But Ava…" His eyes turned molten with a sudden, unexpected intensity.
"I need you to know—if the day ever comes where I have to protect you against him, I will. "
The words slammed into me. Raw, steady loyalty that didn't just follow a leader, but followed a heart. I nodded, swallowing the ache in my throat.
Maybe I did need someone like Ezra—someone who wasn't tangled in my heartstrings like Asher, but who knew him better than anyone else.
My lips curved despite the fear crawling under my skin. "You would kick his ass, wouldn't you?"
"Gladly," he said with a wink.
But as I drew the jacket tighter, the anxiety came rushing back. Ezra must have sensed the shift.
"You doubt Asher?" he asked.
I swallowed hard. "I don't doubt him. It's Jeremy that scares me."
Ezra's grin slipped, his brow furrowing.
“Jeremy's the most powerful earth wielder in the kingdom,” I said, my voice trembling but gaining strength as I spoke. “The General's son. Born and bred to be a warrior. He's calculated. Strategic. Every move he makes is a weapon.”
Ezra studied me carefully, his relaxed expression finally sharpening.
"Asher…" where Asher paced the center of the pitch, shadows trailing his every step.
“Asher's cocky. He trusts his power. Jeremy trusts his strategy.”
Something flickered in Ezra's eyes—a realization that this wasn't just a game of pride. And then, something wet and heavy brushed against my hand.
Havoc and Ruin, Ezra's two-headed bloodhounds, sat at my feet.
They were massive, terrifying creatures of myth, yet both heads let out a soft whine, long tongues lolling as their red-and-gold eyes gleamed up at me.
"Aw," I murmured, crouching down before Ezra could even think to warn me.
My hands buried into their thick, coarse fur, scratching behind four ears. Both heads leaned into me with a low rumble, acting as if they'd known me their whole lives.
Ezra went deathly pale. "Wait—Ava, don't—"
Too late.
Havoc licked my cheek with a wet slap while Ruin shoved his massive snout into my lap, nearly knocking me over. I laughed, scratching their ears harder.
"What?" I said, smiling up at a stunned Ezra.
He just stared at me, his mouth slightly open.
Across the field, a jolt of pure shock hit me through the bond.
"Those mutts don't let anyone touch them," Asher's voice murmured in my head, dark, low, and laced with disbelief.
"Not even me. Not anyone but Ezra."
“Well, they like me,” I said, grinning as I rubbed under Ruin's chin.
Both heads leaned harder, whining like overgrown lapdogs.
"You're just big pups, aren't you?"
Havoc's red eyes gleamed as he shoved his enormous head beneath my hand, demanding more attention.
Ezra ran a hand through his auburn hair, looking completely floored. "They really do like you."
Amusement rolled through the bond, replacing his shock.
“Wish me luck, Firecracker,” Asher purred through the bond.
The whistle blew, sharp and final.
The waiting was over.
The war had begun.
Jeremy and Asher circled each other at the center of the pitch, neither willing to make the first move.
The crowd had gone so quiet that even the wind seemed to stall, afraid to move.
The bond was shut.
Asher had drawn his shields tight, shutting me out of his mind.
It was better this way. No distractions. But the silence from him clawed at my ribs like a physical ache.
"Here we go," Ezra muttered. His orange eyes never left Asher.
For a second, something strange and cold slithered up my spine, but I shook it off. Just nerves. Just the biting chill of the evening.
Asher's shadows stirred like living smoke, writhing around his body and curling over his tattoos as if they were feeding directly on his pulse.
He was darkness given form—beautiful and terrifying.
Jeremy's power was the antithesis: solid, grounded, and immovable. The earth trembled under his boots, cracks spidering across the dirt as gnarled roots tore free from the soil, flexing like muscles ready to strike.
Opposites in every sense. Shadows against stone. Hunger against discipline.
"Hey."
Ember appeared at Ezra's other side, sliding in close without a second of hesitation.
She bumped her shoulder lightly against his arm out of habit, then slipped neatly beneath his side.
Ezra's arm lifted automatically, settling across her shoulders like it had been waiting for her to get there.
He glanced down at her, a slow, effortless smile curved his mouth, and winked.
She rolled her eyes, but she didn't move away.
I didn't say a word. I just watched the way she leaned into him without even realizing she was doing it. The way her fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his shirt, revealing the softness she tried so hard to pretend wasn't there.
Gods. Ember. My reckless, iron-hearted, flame-tongued best friend.
She wasn't running or deflecting. She was just… staying.
Something warm bloomed in my chest.
She caught me staring and narrowed her eyes. "What?"
"Nothing," I said lightly.
But I kept smiling. Because for the first time, she wasn't guarding her heart like a fortress.
She was letting someone inside, and it suited her.
The sound of Asher's chuckle snapped me back to reality. He tilted his head at Jeremy, that wicked grin carved into his mouth.
Jeremy snarled in response, the ground quaking harder beneath us.
“Honestly, I can't believe they're actually doing this,” Ember muttered from beneath Ezra's arm, rubbing her hands together as if the chill could explain the frantic edge in her voice.
Ezra didn't move. He stood between us, his gaze fixed on the field.
"I can," he said quietly. His tone wasn't amused or impressed. It was knowing. "You do not challenge Asher. Not in front of his friends." His jaw flexed slightly. "And especially not in front of his—"
He cut himself off, his arm around Ember tightened just a fraction.
I turned toward him, my heart thudding. "In front of his what?"
Ezra didn't look at me. He kept his eyes locked on the pitch, his expression unreadable.
The ground trembled before I could press him for an answer.
A deep, tectonic rumble rolled through the stadium, rattling the bleachers beneath our boots and vibrating in my very marrow.
My attention snapped back to the field.
They weren't circling anymore.
Shadows detonated from Asher, lashing across the field like living whips and snapping toward Jeremy with brutal precision.
Jeremy reacted instantly, slamming both palms to the earth with a guttural roar.
Roots erupted—thick, coiled, and violent.
They burst upward to meet the shadows head-on, the impact cracking like thunder.
Earth and shadow exploded into a brutal storm that sent dust, sparks, and shards of turf spiraling into the air.
The crowd gasped in unison. I couldn't breathe.
Jeremy landed the first blow.
The ground split with a violent tremor, a wall of raw stone and packed earth surging toward Asher.
It slammed into Asher's chest with bone-shaking force, hurling him across the field.
Gasps tore through the bleachers, but mine was a jagged scream I couldn't choke back.