Page 46

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SERA

T he fortress is alive with movement.

The final battle is coming. The Drazharel brothers gather their forces, sharpening blades, whispering strategies, preparing for war.

I should be doing the same.

But something is wrong.

Veylan is avoiding me.

Not openly. He is too careful for that. But I feel it. The shift in his touch, the weight behind his words. The way his eyes hold something back.

This is paranoia talking and I am imagining it.

I want to believe that.

So desperately.

But then I hear them.

The chamber door is cracked open.

Inside, the brothers speak in hushed tones.

I was not meant to be here. But fate has never been kind to me.

I stay in the shadows. I listen.

"The ritual is ready," Drathis murmurs. "The blood-binding will be completed by midnight."

"And the sacrifice?" Xalith’s voice. Low. Cold.

A heartbeat of silence.

"She is the only one that fits."

Veylan. Veylan says it.

The world stops turning for me.

His words crushes my heart like a boulder.

I strain to breathe.

"You’re certain?" Maelrik’s voice carries something like amusement.

"It has to be her."

Veylan’s voice is void of emotion.

"Her blood will seal Hazeran away. She… she was always meant for this."

The world starts again. But it is different now. Ugly. Twisted.

My pulse roars in my ears.

I want to be wrong.

But I am not.

Veylan planned this.

From the beginning.

I move before I can think.

The chamber doors slam open, and they all turn to me.

Their faces are unreadable. Except for Veylan’s.

His is unmoving. Expecting this.

"You knew."

The words shake as they leave my lips. I hate that they shake.

He does not flinch.

"You planned to use me."

Still, nothing.

My stomach ties itself into knots. I take a step forward, because I need him to say it. I need him to deny it. To tell me I am wrong.

But he does not.

"Say something," I demand, voice breaking.

He does not say the words I want to hear or anything at all.

That is worse than anything.

I lunge.

I barely hear the gasp of his brothers as I strike.

He does not stop me.

I hit him. Again. Again.

Fists colliding with his ribs, his jaw. But he lets me.

His brothers move to intervene.

"Don’t." His voice stops them all.

He catches my wrists. Holds me still.

I shake with rage. With betrayal. With the aching, bleeding hole in my chest.

"You were never going to let me leave, were you?" I whisper.

His grip tightens.

"No."

The truth slams into me harder than his touch.

I shove him away. Disgusted. Heartbroken.

"I trusted you."

That is the worst part.

Not the betrayal.

Not the lie.

That I trusted him. That I loved him.

I turn and run.

I hear him move behind me.

I push harder. Faster.

But he is a predator.

I do not make it far before he catches me.

One arm around my waist, the other clamping over my mouth.

"Stop," he growls against my ear.

I thrash. Fight.

I will not be his sacrifice.

"You cannot outrun me."

I kick. Bite. Scream.

It does not matter.

He drags me back.

"You think I wanted this?" His voice is raw. Broken.

"Then why?" I whisper.

I feel him exhale against my neck.

"Because it’s the only way."

I hate him.

I abhor that part of me still wants to believe in him.

A horn shatters the silence.

The sky erupts in fire.

The battle has already begun.

I twist in his grip, breathless. Trembling.

"You do not get to decide my fate, Veylan."

I hum a song in my throat, low and sonorous. The magic builds up around me as I push him away.

As the first note slips, his hand holding mine trembles as he fights the magic.

His jaw clenches.

"You already decided mine," he says.

I sing louder, almost commanding him to let met go, and he lets out a pained gasp, “Sera!”

Then, he lets me go as if electrocuted, stumbling away.

I stare at him, takes a deep breath and sing in the midst of the battlefield.

I do not run because there is nowhere left to run.

If I do not end this now—I will never be free.

This is war and I will not be a victim.

I will decide.