Chapter 32
CHAPTER
The room was no longer dark, as the red light from Malakai’s powers lit up the entirety of it.
The explosion of heat struck before the sound.
Zinlia yanked me backwards, her arm locking around my waist right as a tendril of darkness split the marble where I’d stood.
The air convulsed, every breath tasting of iron and ash.
I barely registered the motion before we crashed into a pillar, her body angled between me and the storm.
“Stay down,” she said, calm as ever. The command carried no emotion, yet I felt the concern behind it. Whose side was she on? Was she defying her King, or was she protecting his possession during his blind war against his own son?
As if I could stay down. The world was ending not even fifteen feet away.
Malakai moved smoothly, graceful and furious with each step. His magic didn’t so much obey, as orbit him, crimson threads flashing through the smoke, striking like vipers. Each impact shook the hall, blood magic twisting the air until the darkness hissed.
But the Demon King, he barely moved at all.
He deflected with gestures that looked almost lazy, countering force with precision, violence with patience.
Where Malakai’s strikes cut through stone, the King’s power reshaped it, bending the world back into place around him.
His eyes glowed brighter with every clash, not from effort, but from amusement.
“Malakai,” I whispered, the name clawing its way out of me. Zinlia’s hand pressed harder to keep me in place.
“He doesn’t need you in the crossfire,” Zinlia said, but her voice wasn’t cruel. It was distant, almost bored.
I shoved her arm away and she didn’t fight to retain her hold of me.
The weight of power nearly crushed me the moment I stood and the sickening scent of metal slammed at me in waves, thick enough to choke. Every breath felt forced in my throat. But I didn’t care. I couldn’t stand there and watch while Malakai threw himself into the battle alone.
“Malakai!” I shouted, forcing my power up from my core. It responded like a scream of defiance, flames bursting to life around my hands, bright, wild and desperate. My fire surged outward, cutting through the haze, hurtling into the King’s side.
For a heartbeat, it worked. The burst struck him, flames devouring the edge of his cloak, curling up his arm. The throne room lit like dawn breaking through blood.
And then he turned.
My flames went silent.
The air twisted, folding inward, dragging at my power. My fire bent once more, obeying him. It recoiled from my skin, reversed, slipping back into my chest like a disease slowly spreading through my blood. The sudden inversion hit like a blade to the gut. Pain tore through me, white and blinding.
I screamed.
My knees hit stone, my hands flying to my temples as I felt like my head was going to explode.
The fire inside me writhed, clawing to escape but finding no way out.
I felt it burning through every vein, searing, twisting, reshaping under his will.
The world blurred, torches bending, Malakai’s shout dim through the ringing in my ears.
“Stop,” he said. Not a plea. A command that cracked through the hall.
The King didn’t. His eyes were on me, fascinated, hungry. “She’s magnificent when she breaks,” he murmured. “Do you feel it, son? How her fire answers to my power?”
Malakai moved.
He was on the King in an instant, his magic flaring bright enough to stain the world red.
Every thread began knitting together, coalescing into fewer but stronger arms of blood.
But the King caught his wrist mid-swing, the contact detonating the air between them.
Power exploded outward, crushing, unyielding.
Malakai staggered back a step, blood dripping from his palm, teeth bared.
I could see it in his eyes, the calculation.
The fury. The impossible question of how to win when every strike only fed the enemy.
“Malakai, don’t,” I gasped, though I didn’t know what I was begging for.
Don’t stop. Don’t surrender.
Don’t fight. Don’t die.
He didn’t look at me. His eyes stayed fixed on his target, sharp, focused. The threads of blood around him trembled, eager to bite, but didn’t strike again.
“Enough,” the King said, his hand still raised, my fire still twisting around his fingers like stolen silk. “You’ve proven your passion. Now show me your wisdom. Surrender, and I might let her live.”
Malakai’s chest rose and fell, slow, deliberate. His jaw flexed. For a long moment, he said nothing. I saw how the red threads curled away from the King, and instead they stretched towards me, slowly swirling around my legs and climbing up. Soothing, caressing, memorizing every touch.
Malakai straightened.
The tension in the air shifted—less storm, more silence before it. “You’ll let her go?” His voice was steady, too steady.
The King smiled. “If you give yourself up, yes.”
Malakai’s power flickered once, the crimson light dimming like a dying ember.
“Malakai, no,” I hissed, struggling against the grip of my own failing fire. “Don’t you dare—”
His gaze met mine, and for a heartbeat everything was still.
It was the same look he’d given me that night under the ruined sky, when he’d promised he’d burn the world for me if he had to. Only now, there was no fury, only resolve.
“I told you, kitten,” he said softly, stepping forward. “You’re worth the fire.”
And then he lowered his head towards the King as if in reverence.
The blood threads shattered midair, dissolving into mist. The hall went silent except for the low, satisfied hum of the Demon King’s breath.
“What, no kneeling?” he mocked.
I saw Malakai’s lips twitch, irritation that he quickly bit back. “I’m afraid I have bad knees.”
The Demon King scoffed amused, yet he didn’t push further.
My fire flickered, sputtering weakly inside me.
I realised that this was worse than dying. I was watching him surrender everything he was, for me.
The silence was worse than the fire.
Malakai stayed frozen in place, head bowed, shoulders drawn tight as if the act itself flayed him.
The crimson light had dulled around him, fading to a gleam clinging to his skin. My chest burned, not from magic this time, but from the sight of him like that.
Unmoving, contained… Like an animal that had been beaten into submission.
The Demon King’s presence filled the hall like smoke, suffocating and inevitable. He stepped closer, invading Malakai’s personal space and tilting his head, studying him the way a collector might study a rare, dangerous artefact.
“So, this is the extent of your devotion,” he said softly. “Surrendering for her sake.”
Malakai didn’t answer, his eyes were blank. Empty, even.
“Interesting,” the King mused. “You fight me with fury, but the moment her name is bound to your actions, you fold. That’s not love, boy. That’s addiction.”
His hand drifted through the air, tracing invisible patterns. My fire flickered weakly in answer, still leashed to him. Every pulse of it felt like my own heartbeat caught in his grasp.
The King’s gaze slid to me, then back to Malakai. “Tell me, how long has it been since you fed properly?”
Malakai’s shoulders stiffened.
“Ah,” the King murmured, his smile deepening. “Too long, then. You think I can’t smell it? The hunger crawling under your skin? Half-breeds like you, always trying to pretend you can live ignoring your very nature, when it’s the only honest part of you.”
“Stop,” I said, the word rasping out of me before I could think. The King ignored it.
“She fed you once, didn’t she?” His tone turned thoughtful, almost fond. “Or was it more than once? I can taste it in the air between you. Fire and blood, such a sweet combination.” His eyes glowed, bright and unwavering. “Tell me, little flame, did he tremble when he drank? Or did you?”
“Malakai,” I whispered, but he didn’t move, didn’t even lift his head. Only his hands, clenched against his back, betrayed him, knuckles white, his marks pulsating once more with restrained magic.
The King chuckled low in his throat. “Look at him, fighting it even now. Don’t you see, girl? He’s not surrendering for mercy, he’s giving up because if he gets any closer to you, he’ll tear you apart.”
“That’s not true,” I said, even though some part of me, the smallest, most traitorous part, feared the way Malakai’s eyes had lost their warmth in a matter of seconds.
The King leaned closer to his son, voice dropping to a whisper that still carried across the hall. “You could have everything you want. All it would take is one taste. Her blood would give you the strength you need. Enough to kill me. Enough to save her.”
Malakai’s breathing grew heavier, his chest heaving. The King smiled wider.
“Yes,” he said softly. “You’ve thought about it, haven’t you? How it would feel. How easy it would be. Just a single heartbeat separating her life and your salvation.”
Malakai’s magic flared, a flicker of crimson against the floor, but he forced it down. His jaw locked so tight I could almost hear it crack.
“Still holding back,” the King murmured disappointed. “Impressive. But tell me, son… what happens when she bleeds?”
The question hit like a blow. The King reached out, brushing his fingers across Malakai’s chin, forcing his face upward. “Will you still be noble? Or will you remember what you are?”
“Don’t touch him,” I said, pushing myself up despite the pain searing throughout my body. Zinlia’s hand caught my arm again, but I shook her off, stepping forward. “You call him your son, but all you see is a potential puppet, a shadow. He’s not you.”
The King turned his head, amused. “Isn’t he? Look closer, little flame. The same eyes. The same power. The same hunger. You just haven’t seen it turned on you yet.”
Malakai’s breath came sharper now, uneven. His gaze flicked towards me, fast, guilty, raw. His pupils had thinned to slits, the demon edge bleeding through his restraint. My fire flinched in answer, uncertain whether to reach for him or recoil.
The King straightened slowly, satisfied. “There it is,” he said. “The crack.”
“Malakai,” I whispered again, taking a step closer. “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know you.”
But the King was already circling again, voice low and coaxing. “You want her. You’ve always wanted her. Her fire, her blood, her heart. You think you can separate those things? You think she can survive the weight of your desire?”
“Enough,” Malakai said. His voice was rough, deeper now, tinged with something inhuman.
The King smiled triumphantly. “Then prove it. Prove you can touch her without taking what you crave.”
Malakai stood, slowly. The air thickened, the scent of blood and ozone pressing against my lungs. He took a single step forward, and the shadows themselves stretched towards him.
For a moment, I saw what the King wanted me to see, the monster waiting under Malakai’s skin, the creature that knew nothing of love or mercy.
But I refused to believe it, my hand acting on its own as I reached for his face.
Blood swirled around my wrist, a mixture of comfort and threat, like it wasn’t sure itself.
When my fingers finally brushed against his cheek, I began breathing again.
It was as if I had been forced under water all this time and I had finally broken through the surface.
But Malakai’s hand curled into a fist, his eyes locked on mine.
“You can’t break me,” he said quietly, but the words weren’t aimed at me.
The King’s smile sharpened. “Oh, I don’t need to. I only have to wait.”
He turned his back on both of us, as if the game was already won. “Desire always does the rest.”