Page 46 of Claimed In Darkness

46

NAIRA

I feel the first blade before I see it.

The surrounding shifts. A whisper of steel slicing through the dark.

Instinct pulls me sideways. Too slow.

The tip grazes my ribs, a thin line of fire opening across my skin.

I never stop moving.

I don’t stop killing.

Because the battlefield does not wait for hesitation.

And I am no longer the kind of woman who hesitates.

The smell of blood is thick, clinging to my skin, seeping into my lungs.

Bodies hit the ground, their last gasps lost beneath the clash of swords, the roar of beasts, the crackle of magic being torn apart.

I should feel something.

Guilt.

Regret.

Shame.

I don’t because I chose this.

I am exactly what they wanted me to be.

A weapon.

A monster.

A thing made for war.

And I wield my blades like I was born for this.

The first time I see Zephiran again, I almost let him kill me.

He moves like a storm, cutting down everything in his path, body slick with blood—some his, some not.

And for one brief, shattered second, I think—let him end this.

Let him drive that sword through my ribs.

Let him finish what he should have done the first time.

Let him erase me before I become something worse.

But that’s the problem.

He won’t. Why is he trying hard to save me?

Even now he can’t let me go.

Even after everything I have done.

And I hate him for it.

Why does his presence make me remember?

He makes me feel something in the middle of this chaos.

He makes me hurt in ways I don’t have time to understand.

I wanted him to stop fighting for me.

His blade finds my throat before mine can. I let him.

I want to see what he will do.

I want him to look me in the eyes and admit that I am already dead.

That the woman he loved no longer exists.

That this is the end.

But he stops. Coward.

His sword presses against my skin.

The pressure is there. But the killing blow?

It never comes.

What is he waiting for?

Me? The Naira he knows?

For the woman he still thinks is buried inside me somewhere?

The woman who no longer fucking exists.

I let out a laugh. Not out of amusement.

Not out of victory.

Its out of pity.

"What are you waiting for?" I whisper.

His fingers tighten around the hilt.

I feel the tremor in his grip.

He cannot do it. Weak.

He still thinks there is a way out of this. Thinks I will come back to him.

That is the biggest mistake he has ever made. He’s pathetic.

I will never be his again.

Love has no place in my life.

I belong to war and Zephiran is just another enemy standing in my way.

I move before he can. Too fast that he can’t keep up.

The relic inside me burns, bending my body into something faster, stronger, more lethal than anything I have ever been before.

I twist.

My blade finds his side. Not deep enough to kill.

But it was enough to drive home that there’s no way back.

Just enough to make him see me for what I am.

A gasp rips from his lips.

Shock.

Not pain.

Not fear.

I lean in close, lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

"It took you long enough," I murmur.

He stumbles back, pressing a hand to his wound, blinking like he doesn’t quite believe it.

He doesn’t quite believe I did this.

Zephiran still thinks there is a version of this where we do not end up like this.

It is not.

It never was.

I dont’ stay to watch him bleed to his death. I turn before I can change my mind.

Before I can let myself feel something close to regret.

Before I remember what he used to mean to me.

The past doesn’t matter anymore as I have made my choice.

There is no coming back from this.

When he calls my name?—

I refused to look back.

This is who I am now.

And I don’t belong to Zephiran anymore.

I belong to the blood between us. To the war. To battle.

And nothing will ever change that.