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Bryn barked out orders to the soldiers assembled before her, worry gnawing at her gut. There was a disturbance at the eastern gate that was sparked only a few minutes ago, but the communications had already gone silent.

Before her uncle could come and order them to make their way to the gates, Bryn needed to secure the eastern gates to the palace so Maude could sneak through.

Revna either had not returned or was too busy to confirm that her sister had received the letter she sent, which was why Bryn was working frantically to keep the gates empty before her uncle noticed.

Working harder than ever to keep her Lieutenant General mask in place, Bryn continued her speech, “Shut down the disturbance at the wall, and if anyone kills the perpetrator before I get to speak with them, consider your families notified of your unfortunate passing in the line of duty."

Her eyes gleamed with predatory intent as her gaze moved over every single soldier lined up in front of her.

“Yes, sir,” they all shouted as one.

“Go.”

As one, they turned and marched out the eastern gates without looking back once, leaving them unguarded.

Nausea rose in her as she kept her face neutral. She thought of Revna again .

Where was she? Bryn wondered again. She should have been back by now .

Attempting to shove aside thoughts of her lover, Bryn headed toward her office.

Perhaps Revna was waiting for her there.

It would not be so uncommon for a soldier to report to her office to debrief after a mission.

As she approached her office door, she saw the crackling flames of a fire she did not ignite under the door. Relief washed through her.

Revna .

Unable to keep her relief contained for much longer, she burst through her office doors and scanned the room, looking for her lover.

The small room was scarcely decorated; the simple furniture included only a desk and a few chairs.

The singular window looked over the eastern gates, where Bryn could spot black plumes of smoke rising from the ruined structures like a huge blast had dismantled the gears that operated the doors.

Her office looked normal enough except for the one disturbance that rocked Bryn to her core.

Sitting in her chair, legs propped up on the desk, was the General of the Kingdom of Flame—her uncle.

“General,” Bryn said abruptly, bowing low with her fist over her heart.

“Lieutenant,” he replied, a grotesque smirk playing in his mouth. “I’ve been waiting quite a while for your return.”

Bryn straightened stiffly, her long copper braid sliding over her shoulder to hang down her back.

“Apologies, General,” she bit out. “There is an attack on the eastern gate of the city, and I was arranging for soldiers to supply aid to those already defending our city.”

“Yes, I heard. That was quite the blast,” he replied as he lazily twirled a long braided thread hanging from his waistband .

Bryn's attention zeroed in on the thread, the shining black material that was being run through her uncle’s dirty hands so intensely familiar to Bryn, as she had run her fingers through it frequently.

Every thought emptied from her mind as the fire that burned deep in her soul sparked at the sight of the black braid of hair hanging from the General’s belt.

“Where is she?” Bryn asked her voice a low growl that she had never heard from herself before.

“I do hope you reinforced the palace gates before you dispatched your soldiers,” he continued as if he had not heard Bryn speak. “Assuming, of course, that the threat at the gate is a real threat at all.”

“ Where is she ?” Bryn shouted, wind swirling around her and lifting her heavy braid along with all the papers on her desk in a frenzy.

The General chuckled before standing, the sound soft and sinister.

“She is not suffering. Come.” He motioned one arm to the door behind her. “I’ll take you to your shieldmaiden.”

Bryn was unmoving as her uncle walked past her to the door. Before she could respond or turn around, he stopped at her side and leaned in. “Or should I say your lover?”

Flames sparked at her fingertips as she turned her gaze to meet her uncles. His face blanched for a split second at what he saw in her eyes before he composed himself and walked out of the office. Bryn followed automatically, keeping her hand resting on her sword.

They entered the courtyard where the soldiers practiced, the pale orange sands empty and peaceful.

Bryn absentmindedly noticed that the courtyard, usually filled with the violence that was raging inside of her now, was eerily silent.

Her skin began to heat as her rage built inside of her.

She needed to free Revna before she could obliterate her uncle; Revna needed to be safe first .

They walked in tense silence for a long time.

Bryn did not pay attention to where they were going; her only thoughts were of Revna and her uncle's murder.

She did notice, however, that they were moving further away from the eastern palace gates.

The smallest wave of relief passed through her before her worry and anger washed it away again.

Maude was on her own now; Bryn needed to find Revna and leave this kingdom behind until they could regroup.

Her uncle was speaking to her, but she could not take in his words as she planned for their escape.

They rounded the corner, but Bryn was too busy to realize that they stood before the front gates of the palace, the large doors open to the nobles’ district below them.

Unsure of what they were doing there, Bryn was pulled from her plans as she noticed the crowd that had gathered in front of her.

She scanned them, searching for Revna, but only saw looks of horror, anger, and grief etched into the faces of the citizens of Logi.

But they were not looking at her but above her.

An icy finger traced itself from the back of Bryn’s neck down her spine. She felt the swirling of something other around her as she felt a drop of liquid hit her cheek.

In a daze, Bryn lifted her shaking fingers to her cheek. Terror rolled through her as she pulled her hand away, her fingers stained with blood. She knew now what she would find when she looked up.

Taking a few steps forward so she was standing with the people of Logi, so she was standing as Brynna and not the Lieutenant General, Bryn turned and looked up to where the crowd’s eyes were pinned.

Strung up in the archway of the open gates, her arms pulled to either side and her head hanging back, was Revna.

The torches on either side of the gate cast her body in a soft flickering light, the moonlight beaming on her, casting an ethereal glow around her cooling corpse.

Her shining black hair was shorn from her head, and her clothes were torn from her body, leaving only her leggings and boots.

The long column of her throat that Bryn had once placed a thousand delicate kisses on was slashed open, her life's blood dripping onto the red dirt-packed ground. Her torso was cut from throat to navel, her ribs broken and scattered on the ground below. Revna’s heart and lungs were missing.

They were probably already burnt to ash, as the blood eagle tradition demanded from betrayers and murderers.

Bryn was numb, her limbs paralyzed by cold.

There was nothing left inside of her as she took in her lover's hanging body, the message it was sending as clear as the early morning sky in the desert. Only the memory of Revna’s beating heart pulsed in her ears as Bryn ran her fingers over Revna’s blood that had stained her cheek, spreading it over her entire hand.

Bryn lowered her eyes to her uncle’s. His cold hazel eyes gave nothing away as she raised her bloody hand to her face and imprinted the blood of the woman she loved onto her skin.

A promise; that was what Bryn was silently presenting to her uncle, to her father, to the entire gods damned kingdom—a promise to avenge Revna’s murder.

Two of her soldiers cut through the crowd and seized each of her arms, immobilizing Bryn, but she didn’t care.

They dragged her back to the General, the satisfaction in his face only stoking her rage further.

Tears of fury spilled over Bryn's cheeks, mixing with Revna's blood to drip onto the ground beneath their feet.

“I told you she wasn’t suffering,” he said smugly.

Bryn’s temper snapped free as she threw herself at the General, the soldiers surprised by her outburst scrambling to get a new hold on her.

Her fists slammed into his jaw, his ribs, and his throat as she unleashed herself.

Every hit sang to the fire in her blood, every crunching bone or grunt of pain a melody to her broken soul.

It wasn’t enough; his pain wasn’t enough . He needed to suffer, needed to bleed for what he had done to her raven.

She withdrew the small blade from the heel of her boot, slashing it upward across her uncle’s chest. The blade cut through her uncle's skin fluidly, the blood pouring free from his face and chest chanting to Bryn’s ravaged heart.

In her rage, she carved into his chest two more lines before he managed to kick her off.

Her anger cleared for a moment, and Bryn saw the cuts, which looked like the rune Yr in reverse. Bryn realized, in her rage, that she had marked her uncle for death.

Deep satisfaction spread through her at the bloody sight. Her grin must have been terrifying because the soldiers positioned behind her uncle blanched.

The soldiers pried her from her uncle’s body.

When the dust cleared and her uncle was able to right himself, his blood began pouring freely from the wounds she bestowed on him before he burned them with his fire.

The bright red scars shone through his mangled clothes, showing the nobles behind her what she had marked him with.

Soft gasps echoed behind her as she grinned wider.

“You miserable bitch ,” he seethed, slamming his fist into her gut.

Bryn grunted, the force of his hit knocking the wind from her. Nothing could hurt her anymore, though. Her light was gone; her raven was dead.

“You think what I did to your whore was painful,” he laughed darkly. “Just wait for what your father has in store for you.”

Bryn looked up at her uncle, the hate she had harbored for him burning in her eyes, and laughed at him. Her laugh was almost a hysterical cackle as she refused to lower her eyes from his. The same hazel green as her own, as her father's, stared back at her in confusion and apprehension.

“Bring me to him,” she crooned. “There is nothing more he can take from me. I would have words with my father one last time before he finally frees me from this miserable existence.”

She spat on the dirt at her uncle’s feet. The General smirked once more.

“Be careful what you ask for, Lieutenant .”

Her soldiers dragged her back into the depths of the black castle that matched her father’s black heart.