Chapter 44
Leo
Slade never stayed down. Not for long. He couldn’t—not when she still needed us.
Elira’s shadows still hung over the warzone like smoke—thick, curling, restless. It swallowed shapes and sound. The clash of steel and the screams of dying soldiers echoed all around, but none of it told me where she was.
I staggered upright, shaking off the blast from the Shade—Clem, maybe? Didn’t matter. He was dead now. Slade had cut him in half with one of those blades of his.
“Elira!” I shouted, voice raw. “Elle, where are you?!”
No answer.
I turned—saw Slade crumpled nearby, still breathing.
I rushed to him and slammed a fist into his ribs. “Get up, you stupid bastard. We need to get to Elle!”
He groaned, eyes fluttering as he stirred. Sparks still danced under his skin from Vael’s earlier hit. It had rattled him hard.
“Come on, man. Please,” I said, arm under his shoulders, dragging him upright. “Elle’s in trouble,” I muttered. “I can feel it.”
And I could. In my bones. Like something had gone terribly wrong.
Another flash of lightning split the sky ahead—not from the clouds, but from Vael. The skyline lit up again and again. Warnings. Threats.
“There’s something going on out there,” I snapped, helping Slade stumble forward.
We pushed through the fray—cutting down anyone stupid enough to get in our way. Sentinels, corrupted Shades, whatever poor soul thought we’d stop. The world burned around us.
We burst through a cracked archway—and I nearly tripped.
A body lay slumped on the ground. Blood-soaked curls. Violet hair.
“Oh fuck. Mads!” I dropped to my knees beside her, heart slamming against my ribs.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” She was barely conscious.
Her body trembled under my hands. Blood matted her curls, her skin too pale.
I pressed my fingers to her neck. A pulse.
Weak. But there. Relief flooded through me—and then fury.
Slade collapsed beside me, caught his breath, then pointed.
“Leo—look.”
I turned—and froze.
Thorne.
Locked in combat with Vael.
Magic whipped around him like a force of nature—warping the air, cracking the earth. His swords were a blur, moving with ruthless precision. Vael’s lightning slammed against an invisible shield, but Thorne didn’t slow. He fought like he was born for it.
And then—
Their eyes met.
Something passed between them. A thread of dark energy—surgical, fast.
Vael stuttered.
And Thorne struck. Blade to ribs. Lightning erupted as Vael stumbled back, blood splashing his robes.
But Thorne didn’t chase him blindly. He raised one hand. No fire. No spell. Just will.
The ground cracked beneath Vael’s feet.
Vael snarled, took a step—and stopped.
He twitched. Shuddered.
Thorne was in his head. I could see it. Feel it. The glow in Thorne’s eyes burned silver, magic crawling across his skin like ink. His lips moved—barely a whisper.
Vael screamed.
Not pain. Not like lightning.
It was something deeper.
He clawed at his skull, staggering. Magic tore loose from him, wild and blinding—and one blast hit Thorne square in the chest, throwing him across the rubble.
Vael spun, unhinged.
“You think you can defeat me with your petty mind tricks?” he roared. “I am the lightning!”
Thunder cracked overhead like a reply from the gods themselves.
But Thorne got up.
Blood down his face, blades steady in his hands.
“We’re not done yet,” he growled, voice like steel wrapped in fury.
Vael laughed—dark, guttural, cruel.
He stepped toward the edge of a swirling portal, lightning curling at his fingertips.
“You think you are so strong. But you are weak. You are all weak. Just like this world you defend. Sloth. Greed. You worship your kings instead of the gods. You turn your backs on divine order—for what? Comfort?”
He spat the word like poison.
“You disgust me.”
Vael flung out a hand. A bolt of lightning cracked through the air and slammed into Thorne, hurling him backward.
Thorne hit the stone, hard—but he didn’t stay down.
“You tell my brother,” Vael snarled, “that I’m coming. And I will take back what’s mine—no matter the cost.”
He dropped something—glass? A crystal?
It shattered.
Black smoke exploded outward, thick and choking, devouring the light.
“Send Elira my love,” Vael called, his voice smug through the haze. “Tell her I’ll see her again… soon.”
“You stay the fuck away from her!” Thorne roared, surging forward—
But Vael was gone.
The smoke collapsed in on itself, curling into nothing.
And we were too late.