Page 2

R.I.O.T

D espair. That's what I see now. It's all that's left.

I stare through my window at what remains of Earth. A world once whole, now broken beyond recognition. It hangs in the void like a wounded giant, wrapped in a shroud of swirling grey clouds. The oceans reduced to glistening pools of toxic black.

The planet is broken, reshaped by calamities beyond comprehension.

But four lands remain, massive and unnatural, like continents forcibly stitched together by the hands of a reckless God. They’re encased in walls so immense, so absolute, they carve the very horizon. Walls meant to keep the chaos out.

The leaders now call the lands Districts; the last stronghold of civilisation.

I say it's the final chapter of our story.

I exhale, smoke slipping from my lips into the open air. Why am I here? Staring at this mess?

It was them—our Sovereigns.

They're interfering again. Making a mess of my life. My gaze narrows as I stare into the endless expanse of sky beyond the backdrop of my office, as if they're sitting there on their thrones. Pleased with themselves.

That, or they just don't know the meaning of 'no.'

Truly, somewhere in my dead heart, I feel bad for the woman opposite me, standing over my desk and watching me with that broken expression.

I clench my fist beneath the desk, flex my jaw, and try not to think of all the ways I'm the reason she looks so… sad.

It's not like she's not beautiful, because she is—like the others. With legs that run for miles, and curves that would make any male specimen pant like a pubescent boy discovering porn.

Worse, she's as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside— like the others.

If only they would use their heads… If only they'd realise it isn't beauty I want in a woman. It isn't brunettes, blondes, or redheads. It isn't human, witch, shifter, or vampire, and it definitely isn't—

"I-I'm your mate."

— a mate!

There's only one woman I want. Someone I can't have. Someone I couldn't protect.

But the Gods don't give up; their pride won't let them. It's my fault for challenging them; I told them I didn't want their choice. I wanted mine.

For a moment, I hesitate; I hate this. I hate what they're forcing me to do.

I'm about to repeat the process of explaining to my mate— Leila Thorne —that I can't love her. I prepare myself to face the tears, the screaming, the disbelief and the heartbreak, but then someone knocks on my door.

Leila snaps her head to my door, curious by who it can be—but I know. I knew the moment he arrived. The castle whispered his presence to me the instant his feet touched my floors.

It began with a shimmer in the walls—like scattered stardust—signalling an arrival.

The floating castle whispered their presence through the magic flowing in the foundations, the walls, as smooth as glass and veined with shimmering streaks of gold that pulsed faintly with something ancient, something divine.

Each stone is alive in its own way, whispering to me of every footstep, every breath, every intention that crossed its threshold.

I didn't need to look who entered or left; I could feel them. The magic coursing through the castle wrapped around every intruder and guest alike, delivering their presence to me like a message carried on the wind.

So, of course, I'm not surprised.

I grit my teeth as Umbra—the monster attached to my soul—awakens. Daring to breach the surface of my skin, but I hold him back. We hate guests—specifically ones I don't invite—but the Gods like to meddle in my business, and apart from me, they're the only ones capable of bringing him here.

General Dame Thorne of District Two steps into the room, and Leila gasps.

"Papa!" she squeals, her frown vanishing in an instant, replaced by a radiant smile. She races across the room, her footsteps light against the floor, before throwing herself into his arms. "You didn't tell me you were coming!"

Dame chuckles, his embrace steady and warm.

The sharp edges of his features soften, his presence gentler than the legend that precedes him.

In this moment, he's simply a father, not the infamous Blood General whose name is whispered in the shadows of the Red Zone.

"I thought I'd surprise you." Dame grins, but Leila sees the guilt in his eyes as clear as I do; he's not here for her.

"Papa," Leila murmurs, her smile faltering as she takes a small step back from her father’s embrace. Her gaze flicks toward me, hesitant and uncertain. "We were in the middle of—"

"You should leave us."

The words slip from my mouth before I even realise I've spoken them.

Leila's eyes widen for a fraction of a second, the hurt flashing across them like a crack in glass before she quickly masks it. But I see it; the sheen in her gaze, the way her fingers curl slightly at her sides.

"R-Right," she whispers, her words soft— defeated.

"Don't be like that, Little Warrior." Dame smiles warmly, resting a firm yet gentle hand atop Leila’s blonde hair. "We'll go out for lunch tomorrow. I’ll even get you that chocolate fountain dessert you love."

Leila laughs to hide what was truly bothering her. She doesn't let her father see. She never does. I don't know why; perhaps if she did, he would tell her she can do better than me. Perhaps he would take her away from here—from me.

"Good," Leila replies, her smile dimming at the edges, but she keeps her voice light, teasing. She holds his gaze, unwilling to let the moment slip into something heavier. "You owe me one anyway."

Dame exhales, rolling his eyes as she turns and slips out of the office.

The door clicks shut.

And just like that, he changes.

The warmth drains from his face, his jaw tightening, shoulders squaring. The softness of a father vanishes, replaced by the rigid composure of a soldier—no, a General. The shift is seamless, practiced, as if flicking off a switch.

"Queen Maya Crux of District 2 sends me, Grand Arbiter," he says, bowing his head low in respect. "You've been avoiding her calls."

Of course she sent him. He's the only one capable of entering my castle since he's related to Leila. It must be handy for Maya to use her General as a messenger.

"I’m not interested in being at the centre of whatever sibling rivalry the two sisters have found themselves in, Dame." My words are a low warning, and from the stiffening of the General's shoulders, he senses my displeasure.

"Forgive me, Grand Arbiter, but my Queen has no interest in searching for her sister—not now, anyway.

" Dame assures me, lifting his head. His gaze meets mine for just a moment, before falling to the floor again.

"I'm here to officially invite you to attend Queen Maya's annual memorial service in honour of her late brother, Grimm Crux. "

Every year, Maya holds a memorial in honour of her brother. And every year, her sister Mia refuses to attend. And every goddamn year, Maya expects me to do something about it.

I hadn't realised it was today; it certainly explains why I can't get a hold of Mia.

I sigh. "Give Maya my condolences, but I have more important matters to deal with."

Dame hesitates for a moment before he asks, "Do you mean Damien?"

My gaze darkens. I don't need to ask him how he knows about Damien; I have a feeling Leila let that little detail slip. It's not like I can keep it a secret. Since I was forced to create a loyalty bond between myself and Damien, he has access to my floating castle.

"I may be able to help you," Dame says, and I raise a brow.

"You mean Maya can help?" I correct, but I'd rather choke on a cactus than accept Her Majesty's help.

"No." Dame shakes his head. " I can help."

My shoulders stiffen, and I tilt my head.

Is the General considering shifting his loyalties? It should be impossible. A General is the throne’s ultimate weapon, its sworn protector. He would sooner die than betray its secrets.

And yet—there's something in his eyes. A flicker of hesitation. Uncertainty. As if, against his better judgment, he's about to tell me something I was never meant to hear.

"King Valadez Imperium of the First District will be attending the event," Dame begins, his voice steady, but his gaze betrays him—darting briefly around the room, as if searching for unseen eyes. "He's bringing a war prize."

He pauses, just for a breath, as he decides if he should keep going.

"It's a Nightwalker, Grand Arbiter… More specifically, a Defect."

A Defect.

A mindless, grotesque mutation—something that hadn’t survived the experiments, the torture, the transformation. A failed attempt at power, left to rot in its own ruin.

Ricci discarded them. They weren't "perfect," he'd say. When humans discovered magic existed, and they realised they weren't alone, that there were creatures much more powerful, stronger, faster than them—fear spread like wildfire. Some panicked. Most questioned everything they thought they knew.

For Ricci, it wasn't just a revelation; it was an obsession. The truth consumed him. Humans wouldn't survive these new beings emerging from the shadows. According to him, they were simply too weak. They'd die out.

And that revelation broke his mind. He refused to accept humanity's weakness and became obsessed with a singular purpose: reclaiming their place at the top, no matter the cost. "Why are you telling me…

General?" I narrow my gaze suspiciously, my words cold.

"And what does it have to do with Damien? "

If Maya and Valadez are foolish enough to parade a Defect at a memorial service, that's their risk to bear. I’ve always believed people learn best by making their own mistakes.

"Leila tells me this Damien can come and go from your castle as he pleases. I only wish to protect my daughter." Dame's expression grows cold, his teeth clenched at the possibility of any harm coming to his daughter. "And I know this Defect can help… It can sense Nightwalkers."

"That's impossible."