Page 21

R.I.O.T

Each District is ruled by a Royal. The species keep to their own, their borders drawn in blood and old grudges. But they all follow the same Hierarchy—an unspoken rule that binds us all. Makes us all equal, as the Gods had intended.

Every Royal has two trusted figures; each one famous in their own right. They call them the Royal Sentinels.

The General, a warrior of unyielding strength, defends the throne with unwavering loyalty. And the Royal Advisor, the mind behind the power, wielding knowledge like a blade—calm, calculating, and formidable.

I'm not a Royal, nor am I a servant. I have no throne. No allegiance. No District to call my own.

And though I do follow the Hierarchy, I'm not divided by species.

General Seth Valerius—my enforcer. My General. A shifter. Shifters have no true home; they prefer their secluded enclaves deep in the forests, their lives balanced between man and beast—well, for some anyway.

After the Tearing, many of them surrendered to their instincts, becoming more animal than human. But Seth? He remains something in between—dangerous, reasonable, and entirely loyal.

A chair scrapes against the floor as a figure drops into it with a heavy sigh, stretching out his legs and crossing his arms over his chest. His voice, low and edged with irritation, cuts through the air.

"So… Let me get this straight." His tone is rough, a slow-burning ember of frustration. "You've had me on fucking corpse duty while you and Seth got to play house with a Nightwalker?”

I glance up, meeting the cool, assessing gaze of High Lord Kyrian Abara—my Royal Advisor. The mind behind the power. The voice of reason— sometimes . And, at this moment, a very displeased man.

"I needed to know what the Supreme Court had on Valadez, since, you know… I'm hiding his killer," I drawl, falling back in my chair, snatching a cigarette from my desk and rolling it between my thumb and forefinger as I stare at the backdrop of my office into infinity.

"They have nothing," Kyrian scoffs, and narrows his gaze at me. "Besides, we both know if they did have something, it wouldn't matter."

I smirk softly, knowing he's right.

Right before I respond, my door slams open. Seth runs into my office, a look of pure terror on his face as he begins to pace, unaware we aren't alone. I glance at Kyrian, who hides his amusement behind his hand.

Seth turns to me, eyes wide. "She knows."

I know who he's talking about; truthfully, I expected her to know a lot sooner.

I sigh. "I know."

Seth blinks once, twice, then finally asks, slowly, "You… know?"

I snatch a lighter and strike it, the flint sparking with a metallic scrape, and a small, wavering flame springs to life.

I lift my chin towards Kyrian, who wears heavy black boots like my own, loose black pants, and a long, sleeveless leather jacket which leaves too much of his dark chest on display.

Seth snaps his head to Kyrian and says, "When did you get back?"

Kyrian checks his non-existent wristwatch. "About two hours ago."

"And neither of you thought to tell me?!" Seth growls, and I let Kyrian explain since it was entirely his idea.

"Yes, but where would the fun in that be?"

Seth glares at Kyrian. "I planned to run to the Red Zone and hide before she got here!" Seth exclaims and turns to me with pleading eyes. "Buy me some time, please?"

I raise a brow. "You'd have to go further than the Red Zone."

"Probably the Black Zone," Kyrian mutters, his voice edged with certainty. I nod in agreement.

Beyond the wall. Beyond the dome’s fragile illusion of safety.

The Black Zone; an unclaimed wasteland of scorched earth and endless ruin.

A place where death lingers, where monsters born of decay and rot prowl the shadows.

The great wall keeps most of them at bay, but sometimes, the worst of them slip through.

And when they do, the armies commanded by the Royals are the ones who deal with it.

And should these monsters reach the Green Zones, I deal with them.

Seth glares, far too serious to find Kyrian's joke funny. Because he says, "Since you're here, can you at least convince this guy to hand the Nightwalker over to the Supreme Court?"

Kyrian tilts his head, and I take a drag of my cigarette.

"Actually, I don't think it's a bad idea," he says, his eyes taking that distant look when he's thinking something over in his head.

"She may be able to deal with the Damien situation.

Besides, if the Gods have accepted an upgraded version of the Defect, it shouldn't cause much of a problem. "

"Yeah… If they accept her," Seth scoffs, and I glare at him, but he ignores it. Kyrian stares between us, confused. "Riot threatened the Gods to let her stay."

Kyrian turns to me, arching a brow. I roll my eyes. "They were about to throw her out, and she's the only solution we have to this Damien problem. The Gods’ pride aside; they were being unreasonable. If I didn't threaten them, I'd have to deal with Damien for another fucking century."

Kyrian sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Well, this certainly complicates things. But not much. I'll deal with it."

The door is suddenly ripped off its hinges and thrown across the room.

Seth stiffens, Kyrian's suddenly standing, and I glare at the culprit of my goddamn broken door, but she hardly seems fazed.

Mia glides calmly into my office, her presence radiating a quiet majesty that seems to hold the very air in reverence.

Her blonde hair cascades in waves like molten gold, catching the soft light in the room.

It frames her face in an ethereal glow, as if the heavens themselves had anointed her—and they did.

Her cerulean-blue eyes gleam, sharp and vivid, like twin pools of water reflecting an endless sky.

There is a serenity to her; a grace in the way she moves, each step purposeful yet unhurried, her silvery white gown whispering against the polished stone floor.

The only sign of her displeasure with us— with me —is the golden light shimmering across her forehead over the moon cycle tattooed in an elegant curve to her hairline.

She turns to Kyrian and nods her head in acknowledgement. "High Lord Kyrian Abara, why am I not surprised to see you?"

"Your Eminence." Kyrian bows and is quick to defend himself. "I only just heard the news myself, and came straight here, but we seem to be in a bit of a disagreement."

Mia scowls. "About?"

"I say we should kill her, and our General says we should use her."

"That is not — " Mia glares at Seth over her shoulder, cutting him off. His jaw closes, his shoulders sag, and my poor General seems resigned to his fate while Kyrian bites back the urge to laugh. How this idiot became a High Lord is a goddamn mystery to me.

"Is that true, General?" Mia turns her attention to Seth while Kyrian glances at me and winks.

"No, Your Eminence," Seth grits, "I've been against this since day one, that bast—I mean, High Lord Kyrian simply enjoys pissing me off."

Mia stares at my General, her eyes narrowing. "So, you knew about this," she says slowly, " 'since day one', and you didn't think I needed to know?"

Seth's mouth opens, but no words come out. I shake my head and decide to save my General. "Leave my men alone, Mia. We both know I'm to blame for this."

My voice seems to have snapped the last of Mia's composure as she swirls on her heel and glares at me.

"You've enslaved a Nightwalker." It isn’t a question.

"Having her prowling around what is left of the Earth, doing Goddess knows what, with Reece.

Do you even realise how many laws you've broken?

How many treaties you've put in jeopardy? How many lives you've endangered?!"

"I know," I drawl, and Mia stares, impatiently.

"And?"

"And fucking what ?"

The air in the room thickens, and the walls tremble as Mia's glare hardens. I don't particularly enjoy pissing off Mia Crux, because whenever she gets angry, the Gods feel far too close for comfort. And right now, I feel them. Their attention in this room and on the scene before them.

Their presence wakes Umbra, and when Umbra's awake, he's always angry. And because he's a part of me, I feel it like it's my own.

"The Gods demand you kill her." I stare at her, unfazed. She takes a step closer. "Riot, this is serious. If not you, then the Gods will interfere…"

A fraction of the anger constantly inside me bursts in my chest—a storm barely contained, threatening to tear free.

It pulses through my veins, hot and relentless, each heartbeat pounding like the toll of a war drum.

The room even seems smaller, the walls pressing closer as though the very air has thickened under the weight of my fury.

"They'll interfere, will they?" My voice is low and taut, each word vibrating with barely restrained power. "Let them try. If they stand between me and that Nightwalker, I'll cut them down, and I won't hesitate to go through you to do it."

The silence that follows is deafening. Their eyes are on me, wide and uncertain, but it only stokes the fire inside me. I want them to fear. I want them to understand the seriousness of my fucking decision.

"Grand Arbiter." Seth's words are weak against my anger as my gaze remains steady on the Oracle, who takes a step back from the weight of my power and my promise.

"I-I don't tell them what to do, Grand Arbiter." Mia explains what I already know. "I'm simply the messenger."

My control is slipping, my anger about to boil over, when hands land on each shoulder, and Seth and Kyrian suddenly appear on either side of me. Their eyes are hard and serious, their bodies strung tight, and they say simultaneously, "Calm down."

The warning is clear, and I decide to listen before I’m completely lost in the weight of all this chaos constantly raging and storming and brewing inside me. I grit my teeth and nod at them, letting them know I have my shit under control— mostly.