Page 23

H.A.Z.E

I may not remember the Tearing, but I remember the chaos afterward. And even though the Shadow Palace and its magical dome protected us, gave us clean air, gravity, and kept the clock tick, tick, ticking, humanity was still a goddamn mess.

Laws didn't just break; they shattered.

The networks went down first—no more news, no more broadcasts, no more signals to hold the fraying edges of civilisation together. When the voices went silent, the riots started.

The floating palace stood above us, unseen but present. Its magic holding together whatever remained of Earth after the Tearing. It protected us, but there was no one to shield us from ourselves.

Order was an illusion, a brittle mask stretched too thin over the cracks of human nature. We still had food, still had water, and because of the floating castle, we had time to rebuild—but survival bred its own sickness.

Authority became a word spat from bloodied lips.

The old leaders, the ones who still believed in structure, in governance, were torn down by those who believed in strength.

Every council dissolved into shouting, then into violence.

Those with power held onto it with iron grips, and those without quickly learned to keep their heads down or sharpen their knives.

And in the chaos, the oh-so-merciful Gods decided to bestow upon us their knowledge and power through their chosen ones—their Oracles. Five to be exact. Each one born from a continent of the world that was, risen from the ashes of their homeland to answer the divine call.

It was when the Oracles rose that one thing was absolutely clear: the laws of the old world no longer existed; humanity answered to the Gods now.

Oracles aren’t rulers, but they aren’t servants, either.

Their bodies are simply vessels for the Gods to pour their power into when they call for it.

They're the only ones in direct contact with the Gods.

There were five of them when the Dome was first created.

Each one took their positions in their assigned Districts, but no one knows what happened to the fifth.

Each District follows the same Hierarchy.

The Sovereigns— our merciful Gods —are at the top.

Their word is law, their desires unquestionable.

The first to be chosen were Royalty, each of them wielding absolute power.

Whether or not that is true doesn’t matter.

No one questions them. Their palaces are fortresses, and their armies are endless.

I should have fucking known.

The Saviour's castle could very well be the unofficial fifth District. He has a General, so he follows the Hierarchy, which means he has a High Lord or Lady somewhere. And then her—the fifth Oracle.

"Mia!" Reece squeals, racing across the room and embracing the regal woman with the pretty blue eyes, the golden blonde hair, and the soft, white, satin dress that floats around her.

It's a delicate system, this Hierarchy. The Sovereign's excitement to have control, the Royals clinging to their thrones, the Oracle's motivations to please the Gods, the Supreme Court which pulls the strings, and the Generals who sharpen their blades.

The cupola above us arches high, and when Mia embraces Reece, her eyes connect with mine; her reaction is instant, almost suffocating. She is staring at me like I had personally offended the heavens, and I have many times.

But the Oracle's anger isn’t the kind of anger you can brush off or deflect. It’s alive, making the very atmosphere feel tight and heavy. Her eyes, piercing cerulean pools that seem to see too much, burn with a light that doesn’t belong to her—or to any creature, for that matter.

But it isn’t just her anger that intrigues me; it’s the eyes I can sense from above me. It’s like the Gods are leaning down from the sky, their collective gaze piercing through the cupola and fixing on me.

Reece stiffens in her arms as Mia pulls her behind herself. My smile widens as her eyes swirl with anger, hate, and downright disgust. Doors snap open, and I don't spare them a glance. My focus is only on Mia and her anger.

I want more, more, more.

I don't care if she doesn't have a hand in my enslavement. She'll suffer, too, if only so I can piss off the Gods. "So? Which one of those self-righteous bastards is dick-riding you?"

The room darkens as their anger intensifies. The shadows on the marble floor seem to move unnaturally beneath the flickering lights, stretching and writhing as if they’re alive.

The castle practically quakes; Reece yelps and falls onto her ass as Mia clenches her hands into fists. "Watch your mouth, Mutant."

I glance at the moon cycle on her forehead and smirk. "Well, fuck." I snicker. "No wonder you disappeared off the face of the Earth— literally. You really picked the short straw out of the bunch, huh?"

Mia's hands come together, fingers laced in reverence, lips moving in a whisper too soft for anyone to catch. But I don't need to hear her words to feel their weight. The very air trembles with divine energy, thick with something ancient and powerful.

The Gods are watching.

It’s my first time witnessing it. The Oracle's one and only gift— Prayer .

A sacred invocation that calls down the power of the Sovereign who had chosen her.

I feel Selene's presence settle over my skin, heavy as chains, her judgement sharp as blades poised at my throat.

The Oracle is calling to her, and she answers.

And it seems Essy senses them, too. I feel her shift and wake in the depths of my mind, her golden eyes blinking open in the blackness, sensing the danger—the looming threat of death that surrounds us.

“Sleep,” I order, but she simply growls.

I grit my teeth, but my attention slides back to Mia. Power surges through her, wrapping around her body like celestial fire. I tilt my head as she begins to blur, her form shimmering, flickering—vanishing.

She thinks she can hide from me.

How cute.

I see her still, a ripple in the fabric of the Aether itself. The threads of existence stir around her, bending to accommodate her absence, but I let her believe her trick has worked. I feign confusion, my gaze flicking around the room in mock ignorance.

Then—she moves.

Silent, swift, a force of divine intent; she closes the distance between us.

The floor quakes beneath my feet as the Aether stirs in her wake, tiny spheres of light clinging to her form, tracing the shape of her body like an outline in the void.

She is little more than a silhouette, a phantom of celestial wrath, but I see her clearly as she drives her fist toward my face.

My golden gaze shifts, catching her from the corner of my eye.

She tenses.

My smirk widens—too late.

I turn, my fingers snapping out like steel traps, catching her fist before it can land.

The moment our skin meets, the air crackles, divine radiance colliding with the abyss that festers inside me.

Mia reappears, her golden glow clashing violently against the edges of my power—seething, writhing, refusing to yield.

But neither do I.

I snatch Mia's throat; my nails pierce into her skin, and I ignore my demon. Mia whimpers as blood rolls down her pretty white skin, staining her dress. The picture of innocence and power she loves to express when, in reality, she has neither.

I lean close. "Next time you attack me, aim to kill." Mia stiffens, my eyes shining golden as hers bore into mine. "Because next time, I'll rip out your heart and fuck the Saviour on your corpse while singing ‘fuck you’ to that bitch who's so ready to answer your pathetic little prayer."

"Enough!"

That voice. That raw and beastly anger— that power.

We turn our heads to the Saviour. His chest rises and falls harshly, each breath shuddering through him as though it can barely contain the force churning inside him.

His eyes shut tightly, and his body trembles with anger.

I want to move, to take a step back—or perhaps a step closer—but I'm frozen.

There's that pressure weighing on me, holding me down, similar to when we first met.

I release Mia, who stumbles back, coughing and spluttering as I turn my attention to the Saviour. His anger appears to cause him pain, but there's something else as well. The presence of the Gods—it's gone. Vanished. As if they were never so close to begin with.

A dark-skinned man appears beside us, takes Mia into his arms, and turns to me. I arch a brow, instantly recognising what he is. The Mana surrounding him shimmers in the air. They're delicate, glowing orbs of purple that drifts lazily around his body.

Mana looks a lot like Aether, but these hum with a different kind of life.

Where Aether feels distant and ethereal, this Mana pulses with intent, clinging to him as if waiting for his command.

That was the difference between the two; Mana is magic—it can be changed, wielded and corrupted. Aether is something else entirely.

But my focus is on the scar on his face, beneath his eye. Running in a jagged line to the corner of his lip. "Let's go. You don't want to be here when he's like this."

I narrow my gaze as he rushes away to the exit. Seth and Reece are already waiting on the other end, but I remain planted where I am. Surprisingly, Essy doesn't comment on it.

"Haze! Hurry!" Reece yells, her eyes sad and fearful, but the moment Kyrian and Mia step through the threshold, the door snaps shut behind them. Yep, the castle wants me dead.

I glance back at Riot, perched low, one hand pressed into the floor and the other resting on his knee. His head is down, and his eyes are clenched shut.

He growls, low and deep. "Leave, Nightmare."

I step towards him and muse, "Worried about me, Saviour?"