Page 32

THIRTY-TWO

CASSIAN

C assian woke before the sun cracked the horizon.

The air was too still.

No birds. No wind. Just pressure—heavy and suffocating, like the gods were holding their breath.

He sat up slowly, blinking into the faint gray light that filtered through the jagged cracks in the ceiling. The world was hushed, wrong. Too quiet.

Seraphine lay curled beside him, one arm slung carelessly across her waist, her breathing steady. A golden strand of hair had fallen across her face. The curve of her bare shoulder peeked from beneath her coat where it had slipped in the night. She looked… peaceful.

He hated how much it made him ache.

Peace never lasted.

He rose soundlessly, his body stiff from stone and cold. His fingers flexed automatically toward the hilt of his blade. Something was off. More than off. The Veil felt thinner than it had the night before—stretched, cracking at the seams.

The silence wasn’t silence.

It was waiting.

He padded to the ruined archway, scanning the shadowed woods beyond. Trees stretched into the dark, unmoving. But he felt them—eyes. Magic. Threat. He strained to listen, heart pounding.

The Emperor had found them. He could feel it in his bones.

Maybe it was Varros. Maybe Vaela. One of the elite. Sent to finish the job the Emperor hadn’t the patience for.

Assassins.

Executioners.

He hadn’t seen them—but Cassian didn’t need to. Their presence hung in the air like smoke.

They were close.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes flicking back to Seraphine still sleeping, unaware. He didn’t want to wake her. Not yet. Not unless he had to.

A twig snapped behind him.

Cassian spun, blade drawn.

Not the forest.

Below.

The sound hadn’t come from the trees. It had come from the floor.

The stone groaned beneath his boots. A sharp breath of cold air spiraled upward from the cracks, brushing against his ankles like skeletal fingers.

Cassian braced.

But he wasn’t ready.

The ruin floor buckled with a shudder that cracked through his bones. A rupture tore open the chamber, jagged and black, vomiting magic that stank of rot and ancient flame.

Seraphine bolted upright with a cry just as a twisted plume of fire exploded skyward—only it wasn’t fire.

It was wrong.

Warped.

Hollow-touched.

It had come for them . Not from above or from the Emperor’s blades.

From beneath.

From the thing waiting in the dark between worlds.

Cassian threw himself between her and the breach just as the first shape lunged free.

It wasn’t a creature. It was a memory. A piece of the Hollow.

It screamed with no mouth, tendrils reaching, not for him —but for her.

“No!” he bellowed, stormfire exploding from his chest as he caught the lash with his bare hand. Magic hissed, recoiled, then ripped backward right into him.

Pain tore through his spine. Visions struck like lightning.

He staggered, gasping and the world spun—shifted.

He stood in a place he didn’t know. A hall of ash and light and blood-soaked banners.

At the center, a woman held a child.

His child.

A girl. Dark hair. Gold-flecked eyes. Laughing.

Seraphine’s arms wrapped around her.

Safe.

Alive.

Cassian fell to his knees.

Then it shifted again.

The girl was gone.

The laughter—gone.

Only Seraphine stood there, fire bleeding from her hands, eyes full of rage and loss.

“I told you not to leave me,” she said.

He reached for her—but his hands were ash.

The Hollow laughed.

Cassian hit the ground in real time, gasping. The wound across his chest burned, but it wasn’t blood he felt—it was truth. The vision still sizzled behind his eyes.

He blinked.

Seraphine hovered over him, pale, shaking.

“Cassian—what the hell just happened?”

He grabbed her wrist, breath ragged. “We—we had a daughter.”

“What?”

“I saw her.” His voice cracked. “She was—perfect. Light. Yours.”

Seraphine stared. “Was?”

The pain in his chest twisted. “The Hollow tried to show me what it would take. What I’d lose.”

“And?”

“And I can’t let it win.”

She touched his face, desperate. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I don’t know if I can anymore.”

A new tear cracked through the ruin, but the magic snapped closed as fast as it opened. The Veil rippled once—then settled.

Whatever that had been?—

It had shown him a future. One he wanted. Which terrified him more than anything else.

He pulled her close and whispered, “We have to finish this. Now.”