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She was fast—faster than I expected—and crashed into me. The impact knocked the sword from my grasp. I stumbled back, tripping over the man’s legs. I went down, my hands on the woman’s shoulders. Hitting the stone floor was brutal, but the snapping fangs inches from my face were far more violent.

“Fuck,” I gasped as I held her back, my arms trembling as she grasped my wrist.

“Let me have some,” she cooed, her knees pressing into my hips. “Just a little bit. A taste. That’s all. Please.” She moaned, her hips rolling and grinding. “Please.”

“What in the fuck?” I exclaimed. She was almost as strong as a god. “Get off me.”

“I need it. I need more,” she whined, her voice thickening. “I need—”

Pushing with everything in me, I thrust her to the side. I didn’t stay on my back, realizing how damn fast she was. I popped to my feet and looked for the sword.

She flew at me, her movements frenzied and untrained, all arms and fangs. Was she biting the air? I shoved her back. If she were Chosen, I didn’t want to hurt her. Maybe whatever had been done could be undone. I didn’t know. “You need to calm down.”

Not doing that at all, she launched herself at me once more. I dipped under her arms, coming up behind her. Twisting at the waist, I kicked out, planting my foot in her back. She careened forward, dropping to her knees. I turned, spotting the shadowstone sword lying on the mattress. Grabbing it, I spun. She ran at me at full speed. I stumbled as my arms bent—

The woman jerked, her head and legs falling forward, her back bowing. I looked down to see the sword’s hilt flush with the white robes of the Chosen’s midsection.

I looked up at the same time she did. Her lips parted on a soft exhale. My eyes locked with hers, and time seemed to slow as tiny cracks appeared in her cheeks. They spread much like the fissures in the walls had, traveling across her face and down her throat.

Her weight against the sword disappeared first, like she went hollow. Then her skin flaked off, turning to dust as it hit the air.

My mouth dropped open as she caved into herself, breaking and shattering until the sword I held pierced nothing but robes.

“What the fuck?” I repeated, frozen for a moment before shaking the blade clear of the robes and looking for some sign of the Chosen. A bone. Something.

There was nothing.

I swallowed, taking a step back. I hit the edge of the mattress and turned, looking down at the man. He was paler than before. His eyes were open, but they were glazed over and fixed. Glancing at the pile of empty robes, I knelt, touching his neck.

“Damn it.” My chest squeezed. There was no pulse. I started to pull my hand back when movement caught my attention.

His fingers twitched. Then his arm. A ragged breath left me. I pressed more firmly on his neck, searching for a pulse and still finding none. “Shit.” I looked at his arm. It was still.

Okay. I must have been seeing things.

I looked at all that remained of the woman: nothing but a pile of clothing. She hadn’t been what Aios had once called a demis. That was when a mortal who was not a third son or daughter Ascended.

The heavy fall of footsteps echoed from outside in the hall, snapping my attention to the gauzy curtain. Several shapes rushed by.

One stopped.

A man with long, light-colored hair that fell down his back lifted his chin. He turned to the curtain of the room I was in.

Stepping over the Chosen, I lifted the sword.

“Found her,” came an unfamiliar, gravelly voice.

Damn it.

Damn it.

Another appeared outside, his gold armor dull in the low light. The long-haired man thrust the curtain aside a heartbeat later, striding in.

I shot across the space. The man cocked his head, making no move to protect himself. That was fine. I leveled the edge of the blade to his throat.

“Move,” I ordered.

Though his features were lost to the shadows, I could’ve sworn he smirked as he lifted his hands.