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The lucky ones died. But I was already dead and still I remained.

A heavy slam shook water from the ceiling and pulled my focus to the entrance of my cell. The warden glowered at me, arms crossed, and face twisted in a mixture of disgust and pleasure. Eyes the color of faded bricks looked down at me.

“You’re a mess, Zexus,” she drawled.

“That’s not my name.” Maybe it was. I couldn’t recall. It didn’t matter what they called me, though. I would tear this place down just the same.

“I’ll call you whatever I want.” She dragged her painted nails along the bars, and the hair-raising scrape echoed through my cell. “Some of the prisoners have been acting strange lately. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“No.” Yes. My plans were my own, though, and I’d never share them with her.

“I see.” She studied me for a long moment and then let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll bring in the dogs again, Zexus.”

I went stock-still, my body teetering on the edge of fear and rage. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Then cut it out. Whatever you’re planning, don’t.” Her grin sharpened to something feral. It was hard to believe she’d ever been human. I didn’t say anything else as she strolled away, callously taunting other inmates as she went. Only when her footfalls disappeared did I dare to move toward the back of my cell. We weren’t given beds, and the linens were absolutely vile, but they were good for one thing—hiding. Peeling back a corner of the sheet, I brushed aside a blend of moss and mud until I spied the wavering glyph. A long scratch marred it from top to bottom, and the internal glow flickered more like a dying ember. It’d taken me years to dig deep enough to disturb it. I’d never eliminate it with brute force alone, but I’d weakened it. I’d created a soft spot in Galvanhold’s armor. A space where I could project my power to the outside world.

“Did you get it?” a raspy voice called.

“Yes.” With trembling fingers, I held my hand over the glyph. A thin shadow, so weak and strangled by the magic, emerged like a vine and formed a miniscule basin. But it’d done its job. A small sampling of blood churned in the bowl.

A dry cackle rose from the chamber across from me, and two bodies shuffled to the edge of their cell. Their dark eyes were wild and hungry, and they stared at my prize with rapt focus. The mangripped the iron bars, and his sable Charmer’s emblem glistened like oil in the light of the surrounding glyphs.

The woman leaned against him, her smile wicked. “Go on. Drink it.”

I didn’t need their prompting. I’d been hunting for far longer than they’d been alive, but ever since these two Charmers were placed in the chamber across mine, I’d felt a sort of sick kinship between us. We all wanted to see the world burn. And they’d slowly been destroying glyphs along with me.

I licked my lips. “We’re almost there.” And then I downed the proffered blood as my shadow dispersed. Power slammed into me with such ferocity that I keeled over. Two very different, distinct flavors of raw magic—one filled with rage and bestial strength, and the other with the beauty of creation. Control.

A laugh bubbled from somewhere deep in my chest and my body shook.

Soon, these wards would fall. And no one could stop me.