Chapter 30
Elira
I felt it before I saw it—Phoenix’s pain. Like a thread yanked taut in my chest.
I turned just in time to see Thorne’s blade slash across his cheek. Blood painted Phoenix’s face. And Thorne—gods, Thorne—he looked like death in human form.
“Thorne!” I screamed.
He didn’t stop.
Didn’t even look at me.
I didn’t think.
I reached for the shadows.
They answered instantly—surging forward like a tidal wave from my hands. They lashed through the air and yanked Thorne backward, tearing him off his feet and flinging him through the air like a puppet with cut strings.
He hit the ground hard and skidded across the stone, his sword flying from his grip.
Phoenix collapsed to his knees, gasping.
I ran to him, cupping his face, kissing him hard.
“Elle…” he rasped, “Don’t—don’t let him…”
“I’m not,” I whispered. “I’ve got him. Grab Caelen and get to those damn ships.”
Thorne pushed himself up. His face was a storm—rage, betrayal, something deeper.
“Come on, then,” I called. “If you want me so badly, boss man—come and get me.”
He moved. Fast.
I ran. I was always good at escaping.
He chased. Just like we planned.
We tore down the path through the trees, branches slashing past, the cliff edge looming ahead where the mist swallowed the world below.
The trail narrowed. I felt Slade waiting—just as we planned—hidden in the shadows, ready.
He crouched behind the jagged arch of a crumbling sentry post, molten steel coiled around his arms like serpents—alive with heat, coiled with tension.
I crossed the threshold. Thorne did too.
Slade moved. Fast. Precise.
The steel snapped forward, twisting, locking—coiling around Thorne’s wrists, ankles, chest. The bindings cinched tight. Brutal. Final.
He hit the ground, snarling. But bound.
We had him. Gods, we had him.
I ran to Slade and stood beside him. He didn’t look at me—his eyes were locked on Thorne, sharp with focus—but his hand found the small of my back, anchoring me like it was instinct.
His other hand clenched, and the metal obeyed—tightening with a screech that sent dust spiralling from the broken stone.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low, urgent.
Blood ran from a cut on his jaw, and his clothes were torn from the fight—but he stood like he always did - solid, unflinching, mine.
“I’m fine,” I whispered, my breath catching.
His eyes flicked to mine for just a moment, and something passed between us—grief, fury, love—all layered beneath the restraint he wore like armour.
From the ground, Thorne laughed.
Soulless. Cold. Brittle.
“Nice trick,” he said. “Your plan?” He looked to Slade.
Slade didn’t answer.
I lifted my chin. “Mine,” I said.
Thorne’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course.”
“Thorne,” I said, trying to steady my voice, “I don’t know what happened to you—what Vael or Ashton did—”
“What they did?” His voice cut through mine—too calm, too sharp. “They tore into my mind and poured me out like water. Like I was nothing.”
His gaze hardened. “Then they remade me.”
“This isn’t you,” Slade growled. “None of this is.”
“Oh, but it is,” Thorne murmured, voice cold with certainty. “I know what I am now. I know what you are. Betrayers. Traitors. Criminals.”
“We were your friends!” Slade snapped, fists clenched tight, metal vibrating faintly with tension. “Your family!”
Thorne looked up. “I have no friends.”
His eyes changed.
Not black. Not void.
But bright.
A shimmer like silver caught in flame.
Compulsion.
“Slade—don’t look at him!” I shouted—but the warning came a heartbeat too late.
Thorne’s voice dropped to a whisper. Gentle. Poisonous.
“Release me, Slade.”
Slade flinched. His jaw clenched. A vein bulged in his neck as he fought it—but his hands… gods, his hands were no longer his. They trembled, then shifted, loosening the steel by inches, as if dragged by invisible chains.
“No,” I breathed. “Slade—don’t.”
Thorne’s gaze turned to me. My breath caught. That shimmer burned into gold, bright and terrifying.
And the world— it began to tilt.
I turned my head away before his words could reach me.
But it was close. Too close.
“Slade,” Thorne said again.
Sweat poured down Slade’s face as he fought the urge. His jaw clenched, hands trembling. But Thorne was already shaking off the bindings—one by one—like they were nothing.
I threw my shadows between them, forcing Thorne to still.
He snarled, halted in place.
Thorne was powerful. He always had been.
“Elle,” Slade ground out, voice strained. “Run. Go back to Leo. Now.”
“She won’t,” Thorne said with a sharp, bitter laugh.
I held the shadows as tight as I could, but his presence… gods, it was in me. Crawling into my thoughts, unravelling my focus. His mental magic coiled like smoke, invisible and insidious, gripping me with razor sharp talons.
I tried to hold him. I did.
But the pain—
The pain was excruciating.
“Ahh, Elira,” Thorne murmured, his voice empty, mechanical. “Still trying to save everyone.”
Then he moved.
The bindings shattered off him in an explosion of raw force. One shard of steel caught Slade hard in the shoulder—he hit the ground with a grunt, eyes wide with shock.
“No!” I screamed.
But it was already too late.
I faltered. My shadows flickered. Thorne was free.
And Slade— Slade was trapped by the compulsion.
Frozen. Straining. Powerless.
“Slade,” I choked, reaching toward him.
He looked at Thorne, hatred burning bright in his eyes. “You can’t have her,” he growled.
Thorne smiled, cruel and cold.
“I can. And I will.”
He turned back to Slade. His next words dropped like a stone.
“Throw your steel over the cliff.”
Slade jerked—stood. His movements were jerky, unwilling. I flung my shadows between them again, thick as smoke—trying to hold him back.
But all it did was slow him. Like walking through tar.
“Slade, please—” My voice cracked.
The pain bloomed behind my eyes—splitting, tearing. My vision dimmed. The world tilted sideways.
And Thorne—
Thorne just watched.
Silent.
Certain.
Waiting for me to break.
Slade moved like a puppet—each step jagged, jerking, like his mind was screaming while his body betrayed him. Sweat dripped from his chin. His eyes locked on mine, wide with silent pleading.
His fingers twitched with every blade he dropped, as if trying to hold on. One slipped from his hand like it burned him. Another clattered to the rocks, and he flinched—like a piece of him had gone with it.
Unarmed.
“Now,” Thorne said, voice like a blade in the dark. “Say goodbye to Elira.”
Slade turned to me.
His eyes—
Gods, his eyes.
Horror. Rage. Regret.
“No…” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, please—don’t.”
He took a step back. Like he was fighting it. Like his body wasn’t his anymore.
“Thorne,” I cried. “Please! Don’t make him do this.”
I stumbled forward, hands raised. My shadows quivered, unstable.
“I’ll go with you.” My voice cracked. “I won’t fight. I swear—I’ll come. Just don’t do this to him.”
Slade’s mouth trembled. His body trembled.
Blood poured from my head and my ears now. My powers were faltering.
Thorne watched. Silent. Cold. Waiting.
“Please,” I begged. “Not like this.”
“The Shades must be eliminated. Elira must be captured.” He muttered it, like it was a song in his head he couldn’t shake.
“Thorne, please - stop!” I begged
But this wasn’t Thorne. This was a shell. And he would not be moved.
“I love you Elle,” Slade whispered. “Never forget that. I love you more than anything in the world. I’m just sorry I didn’t say it until now.”
I had one more blade. The Virell dagger—hidden in my sleeve.
A desperate thought formed. Reckless. Insane. I looked down at it. Then up at him.
Please, I thought. See me.
Slade’s eyes locked with mine. A flicker—barely a nod. But it was enough.
“Step closer,” Thorne ordered.
Slade obeyed.
My heart stopped as his boots scraped against the cliff’s edge.
His breath came in ragged gasps, eyes locked on mine. He was still fighting. Still there. But losing.
“Please,” I whispered. “Don’t do this.”
Slade blinked slowly. Tears streamed down my face.
“I love you, Elle,” he murmured again. “That’s all that matters.”
And then Thorne gave the final command.
“Jump.”
Time froze.
I moved before I could think.
The Virell dagger flew from my fingers towards Slade, arcing silver through the air like a falling star.
He was gone.
Vanished into the mist. Lost to the sea.
Silence crashed down around me.
“No,” I gasped. My knees hit the earth. “No—no—no—”
Thorne stood motionless. Cold. Expressionless.
And I couldn’t feel anything except the hole inside me.
The place where Slade had been.
I crawled to the cliff’s edge, my hands scraping stone.
Slade was gone. My protector. My rock. My shield.
He was gone.
Below, waves crashed against the rocks, sending mist curling up in thick, concealing veils. If he was down there, I couldn’t see him.
I couldn’t see his body. And maybe that was the only reason I could still breathe.
A sound tore from my throat—raw, broken. A scream laced with grief and fury.
I launched myself at Thorne.
I didn’t think. I didn’t plan.
I attacked like an animal—clawing, biting, hands wrapped around his throat, trying to crush the life from him. My teeth sank into his shoulder. I tasted blood and didn’t stop.
He ripped me off with a snarl and threw me hard against the ground.
Stars burst behind my eyes. I tried to get up—
His boot came down like a hammer.
Darkness swallowed everything.