Page 41

S.E.T.H

P ain explodes in my skull as I hit the ground, my vision darkening at the edges.

Haze's punch lands hard, knocking the breath from my damn lungs.

I pull myself up, my body screaming in protest, my fingers digging into the dirt.

The Defects flicker in my peripheral, their forms shifting within the shadows.

I spit blood onto the ground and force myself to my feet. The air is thick with the scent of burning metal and something foul, something wrong. My head pounds, my vision swims, but I can make out Haze standing ahead, her posture relaxed, her golden eyes watching coldly.

And Alissa, at her feet… limp.

"Interesting," she drawls, turning her head. "You're quite durable."

A growl rumbles deep in my chest, raw and unbidden.

Heat floods my veins, an electric surge that sends tremors through my limbs.

My hands tremble as my nails blacken, thickening into jagged claws.

A sharp crack splinters through the air as the bones in my arms stretch, elongating, muscles surging and swelling with raw power.

The patrial transformation burns, each nerve screaming as my arms reshape themselves, but I revel in the sensation.

The pain means I’m becoming something more.

I flex my fingers—claws—feeling the sharp tips catch against my palm. Power coils through my arms like a drawn bowstring, every muscle primed and taut. My breaths come faster and deeper, my senses sharpening with each beat of my heart.

The air pulses with movement. The Defects shift restlessly, sensing the change. Their monstrous forms tense, and their scarred faces twist in grotesque anticipation.

I lunge.

The first Defect barely has time to react before my claws tear through its chest. Its flesh is thick and unyielding, but my strength is greater.

I rip through skin and sinew, and the creature lets out a guttural, rattling growl before collapsing onto its knees.

Another roars, its elongated arms swinging toward me.

I catch it mid-air, my clawed hand crushing through its grotesquely large forearm.

The sharp snap of bone is sharp, satisfying.

But they aren’t stopping.

I move on instinct, dodging as another barrels toward me, its body too heavy, too unnatural to move with proper grace.

I duck low, slashing upward, feeling my claws carve deep into the hardened flesh of its abdomen.

The Defect snarls, but something—someone—grabs me from behind before I can finish it off.

A massive arm clamps around my throat—crushing and suffocating.

I snarl, twisting violently, ignoring the sharp pain that zips from the open wound in my abdomen. But more hands come; more weight presses down on me. Their strength is overwhelming, their numbers endless.

For every one that I cut down, two more replace it. Their grip is iron, their fingers digging into my flesh, wrenching my arms back. My claws scrape against their scarred, mutated skin, but they don’t falter.

They're monsters.

And their evil Queen is watching.

She slings Alissa over her shoulder like a discarded doll, her movements effortless and casual, as if she weighs nothing more than a feather. My stomach lurches, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs in a frenzied, frantic rhythm.

No.

I jump, claws bared, every fibre of my being screaming for violence. The world blurs around me; there is only her, only the monster who dared to break my family— again. I'll tear her apart, shred flesh from bone, rip her limb from—

A flicker in my peripheral.

Too late.

A shadow darts between us, and before my mind can register the movement, pain explodes beneath my ribs. A sharp, burning sensation—cold steel sliding deep, cutting, tearing.

I stagger.

Reece stands before me.

But this isn't her.

She gazes at me with hollow eyes, empty and unseeing, a mask of something twisted stretching across her face. There’s a smile, but it’s wrong —too wide, too strained, stretching so tightly across her lips that it looks like her skin might split.

And then…

She twists.

I suck in a ragged breath, groaning, my hand grasping at the blade buried in my flesh, warmth spreading over my fingers. The world tilts—warped and dim.

Ahead of me, Reece and Haze stand at the edge of the street, silhouetted against the glow of a distant, dying streetlight.

Reece glances back once—just once—her eyes unreadable, mouth set in that quiet way she wears when the weight is too heavy to speak aloud.

A look I haven’t seen on her face since before the Tearing.

Beside her, Haze is still, unnervingly calm, golden eyes casting long shadows across the cracked pavement.

Then they turn. Without a word, they walk down the empty road, boots echoing in the silence, their forms swallowed by the darkness. That isn’t Reece.

It can’t be.

The Defects swarm, their grotesque bodies moving as one. A relentless tide of muscle, scars, and unnatural rage. I slash and tear, my claws sinking deep into flesh, carving through thick, sinewy limbs, but it isn’t enough.

Pain sears through my ribs where the knife still sits, wedged between bone and flesh like a parasite. Every movement sends fire lacing through my side, my body struggling to keep up, my strength draining too fast. My breath comes in ragged gulps, my vision blurring at the edges.

I stagger back, barely avoiding a massive fist swinging toward my skull. Another comes from behind, its arm wrapping around my throat, squeezing, cutting off my air. More hands claw at me, pressing in, pinning my arms, dragging me down.

A knee slams into my gut. A fist crashes into my face, rattling my skull.

Too many. Too strong.

The air is thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and something rotten—something wrong. The Defects snarl, their deformed faces twisting into monstrous grins as they bear down on me, fingers digging into my skin, trying to tear me apart..

And then—

The air crackles.

A sudden surge of energy ripples through the battlefield, sharp and electric. A violet glow illuminates the darkened streets, flickering like firelight, burning like a brand against the shadows. The Defects flinch, their grotesque bodies tensing.

Then, the runes appear.

They materialise in the space around me, ancient symbols burning bright in the air, shifting and pulsing with raw power. The glow intensifies, the deep purple light casting jagged shadows against the cracked pavement.

A voice rings out, strong and unwavering.

"This doesn't seem fair…" His eyes shift lazily and meet mine. "Why do you get all the fun?"

The Grand Arbiter, and his Royal Advisor, High Lord Kyrian Abara.

The runes ignite.

A pulse of raw, concussive force erupts outward, a violent storm of energy detonating from where I stood. The Defects don’t have time to scream. The instant the runes touch them, their bodies burst —limbs snapping, torsos splitting open, blood and viscera painting the streets in thick, wet sprays.

One’s arm detonates at the elbow, the jagged bone shooting outward like shrapnel.

Another's chest caves inward before exploding outward in a shower of ribs and blackened tissue. Their shrieks of agony barely have time to pierce the air before they’re reduced to pulped, broken remains, their blood painting the concrete in broad, gruesome strokes.

I gasp for breath, the crushing weight of their bodies suddenly gone. My knees hit the pavement, slick with the carnage of what used to be my enemies.

Kyrian stands ahead of me, his dark cloak billowing slightly from the aftershock of his magic. His purple eyes burn beneath the glow of the runes, his fingers still crackling with residual energy.

Riot walks silently towards the centre of the carnage like it means nothing. Hands tucked lazily into the pockets of his cargo pants, head slightly tilted, expression unreadable—bored, even. His boots are soaked in blood, the viscera pooling around him like a shallow grave.

His gaze meets mine again.

“Still breathing?”

I let out a ragged, painful laugh, blood dripping from my lips. “Barely.”

My breath comes in uneven gulps as Kyrian steps beside Riot. I glare up at them, my voice sharp despite the agony tearing through my ribs.

"What took you guys so long?"

Kyrian’s dark eyes flick down at me, unimpressed. "It takes a minute to gather Mana into the runes, asshole. "

He looks to the knife still buried in my ribs. His jaw clenches, a flicker of something unreadable flashing across his face before he turns back to the battlefield.

Kyrian raises his hand. More runes flare to life, deep violet sigils spinning in the air like celestial fire. The energy pulses around us, humming with lethal intent.

But it isn’t the runes that keep the Defects at bay. It’s him— Riot.

They watch him, only him—as if Kyrian and I don’t exist. Their grotesque forms twitch at the edges of the clearing, torn between fight and flight. The blood of their fallen pooling thick at their feet, steam rising from the mangled flesh scattered across the pavement.

Riot doesn’t spare the Defects a glance. His gaze is on me—on the knife still lodged deep in my side.

"Can you shift?" he asks, voice calm, detached. Like we aren’t surrounded.

I don’t answer. Instead, I grip the hilt of the knife, suck in a breath, and pull.

Pain tears through me like lightning. Blood gushes from the wound in a violent spurt, warm and slick against my fingers. My vision blurs, and my knees nearly buckle, but I force myself to remain standing. My body screams in protest, the damage worsening by the second, but none of it matters.

I let the heat take over.

Fur ripples along my arms, claws lengthening, muscles shifting, expanding. The agony of the transformation pales in comparison to the fire already burning in my ribs.

My breath deepens. My stance steadies as Kyrian stands beside me, the air around him crackling with power as our eyes lock onto the remaining Defects.

“Kill them all. Every last one of them.”

A slow grin bares my fangs.

"Yes… Grand Arbiter."

Now, the real fight begins.