Page 47

47

KENDALL

T he old city is a graveyard.

Cracked stone and twisted metal jut out like the ribs of a fallen beast. It’s not even on maps anymore—just whispered about in hunter reports and Brood intel. The place where the Veil cracked the first time. Where the divide between supernatural and human started bleeding at the seams.

And where Adora is now.

I feel her before I see her.

Not just her scent—but the thrum of her blood, the way it echoes in my chest like it’s calling my name in reverse. It’s not just her I’m tracking.

It’s the Hollowed.

It’s awake.

The magic here is thick, suffocating. The air smells of burnt ozone and memory. I can feel it seeping into my skin, brushing against the inside of my bones.

I keep moving. Barefoot. Shifted, claws out, senses open.

I don’t even realize I’m crying until the first tear drips off my chin and hits the broken ground.

Because I know.

I know what I have to do. But I don’t want to do it.

She’s standing at the heart of the ruins, arms lifted, hands glowing like suns dipped in shadows. Her hair whips around her like it’s alive. She looks taller somehow. Stronger.

But hollow.

I shift back to human. “Adora,” I say, voice catching.

She doesn’t turn.

“Come to stop me?” she calls. “Or save me?”

“Both,” I breathe.

That makes her laugh. It’s broken glass and thunder.

“I don’t need saving.”

“You do . You just don’t know it anymore.”

She lowers her arms. The air around her shudders.

“You think I wanted this? To be forgotten? Left? I didn’t ask to feel like this —like I’m everything and nothing all at once. But doing this? The Brood needs me. The world needs me. And I love that feeling.”

I take a step forward. “I didn’t ask for any of this either. But we don’t get to burn the world down just because it hurt us.”

“I’m not burning it,” she says, finally turning to face me. Her eyes are glowing. Her pupils—gone. “I’m reshaping it.”

“No. You’re letting it use you.”

“Then maybe I am it,” she snaps. “Maybe that’s the point.”

“Do you know what this will do to us? All of us? Don’t let it consume you, Adora. Don’t let the Brood turn you into something you hate, something we all don’t want to be. Don’t let us lose us.”

She laughs and shivers run through me. “Are you serious? We lost ourselves long ago. Why can’t we just let fully go and embrace what we are supposed to be? Wild and untamed. Un-rulable.”

I close the distance slowly, heart pounding. Her threats scare me knowing that if we go, we don’t only lose ourselves, I lose Callum. I lose Adora. I lose everything. We all do.

“Adora, you’re still my sister.”

“You don’t know that anymore.”

“Yes,” I say, voice cracking. “I do .”

She lifts her hand. Energy crackles at her fingertips.

She turns slowly, and I can already tell— this isn’t just Adora anymore.

She looks like my sister, but her eyes burn white-hot, no irises, no humanity. Her body crackles with energy that shimmers like oil over water, and the ground beneath her feet fractures like it can’t bear her weight.

“Adora,” I whisper.

She doesn’t speak.

She launches .

I barely duck in time. Her hand slams into the stone pillar behind me, and it shatters like glass, chunks flying. She whirls, unnaturally fast, her mouth open in a snarl that isn’t hers.

I shift mid-breath, fur exploding along my skin, bones snapping into place with sharp precision.

And still—she’s faster .

We clash in a blur of motion. Claw against spell. Wolf against ancient power. I dodge her first strike, circle, and try to pin her, but she ducks under and slams her elbow into my ribs. Pain shoots through me.

“You were always stronger,” she snarls, voice warped and doubled, as if something else is speaking through her. “But I was always smarter .”

She lunges again. I twist, catching her arm in my jaws, not hard enough to break—just to stop her .

But the second I taste her blood, everything in me rebels. It’s wrong . Bitter. Heavy with magic that doesn’t belong in our bloodline.

She screams and sends a blast of raw energy into my side, throwing me back.

I crash into the ruins, stone cracking beneath my shoulder.

Stars spin in my vision.

Adora stalks forward, eyes bright and wild.

“I’m not letting them use me again,” she growls. “Not Mom. Not Edmund. Not you .”

“I’m not using you,” I rasp, shifting halfway back, hands bloody and shaking. “I’m trying to save you .”

“You don’t save people,” she spits. “You stand in front of them until they leave.”

She throws a wave of Hollowed magic toward me and I barely roll out of the way. The energy strikes the wall behind me—it doesn't explode. It consumes , eating away the stone like acid.

Shit.

I can’t beat her like this. Not as I am.

So I stop running.

I rise, spine straightening, something deep in me waking .

I call the shift again —but not just for speed or defense.

I invite the Bolvi inside.

And this time… she answers.

The shift comes fast—faster than ever before. I don’t force it. I let it happen

My body explodes into light and heat. My form expands—not just in size, but in presence. The earth rumbles beneath my paws. My coat ripples gold-black. My eyes blaze not like hers—but like my own damn star..

My body stretches, bones pop, fur bursts like lightning through my skin. But this time, it’s not just a shift of form.

It’s a shift of will .

I don’t fight the fear. I don’t run from the power. I own it.

And when I land on all fours, I don’t feel like I’m sharing my body with the wolf.

I am her.

The Alpha.

The Bolvi.

The storm.

Adora freezes.

I roar —not just a battle cry, but a command.

Stand down.

She flinches. Her body jerks. The energy around her flickers.

For a moment—I see her again.

Her lips part. “Kendall?”

“Fight it,” I growl.

“I can’t…”

“Yes. You can.”

She screams—full and feral—and charges one last time.

But this time, I don’t dodge.

I meet her .

I crash into her chest, claws grappling with hers, magic clashing with Bolvi force. The energy screams between us.

I push through.

Through the Hollowed. Through the anger. Through the part of her that wants to be forgotten.

And I touch the part of her that’s still mine.

Still Adora.

“Kendall,” she gasps, eyes flickering back to blue. “I can’t—hold it.”

“I’ve got you,” I say. “But you’ve gotta fight.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know .”

Behind me, I hear the others breaking through the rubble. Callum’s voice. Elias shouting orders. But all I see is her.

Adora.

Tears streaming. Power radiating. And breaking apart.

I shift back slowly, dragging her into my arms as she collapses. Her skin’s burning, but I hold her tighter.

“Don’t leave me,” I whisper.

She clutches my wrist.

“I’m still here,” she says.

And then she passes out.

The next few hours blur.

Callum orders the perimeter sealed. Elias takes command of the east ridge. Supernaturals pour in, forces uniting tighter than before.

And me?

I stand in the middle of the ruins, covered in blood, holding my sister’s hand as the Hollowed’s presence fades.

I don’t speak until Callum kneels beside me.

“She’s breathing,” I say.

He nods. “So are you.”

I look at him.

He brushes hair from my face, thumb gentle over a cut on my cheek.

“You shifted differently,” he says.

“I didn’t fight it this time.”

“You didn’t just shift.”

“What then?”

“You became .”

He leans in, kisses me softly. I let myself lean into it, just for a second. I know what’s coming.

But tonight? I’m not just the key.

I’m the one who opened the damn door—and chose to stand in front of it.