Page 39

Chapter 38

Selestina

C louds block the moons, casting the night in overwhelming darkness. Behind me, the village lies silent, its candlelights dwindling to dying embers. My steps are swift, but each one feels burdened, the words I overheard from the kings swirling relentlessly in my mind, louder than my own heartbeat.

A prophecy—one they fear, one they’re watching for. But what does it mean? And who does it foretell?

I press forward, lengthening my stride, my feet carrying me back toward the academy and into a web of secrets I barely understand. My fists clench as I grapple with the weight of what I must tell Alexander. He won’t take it well. The kings are onto him, their suspicions sharpening like blades poised for a strike, and I bet my ass I’ll be the brunt of that wrath.

The path ahead twists abruptly, vanishing into a dense thicket. The trees loom close, their tangled branches stretching toward me like they’re going to reach out and grab me .

A prickle of unease creeps up my spine, urging me onward. Why does my occupation involve so much creepiness?

I quicken my pace, senses sharpening, then a movement in the darkness halts me in my tracks.

A flash—a blur of movement—then pain explodes across my side. White hot agony lances through me as the blade slices through leather, sinking into flesh. I don’t even have time to think of how a blade made its way through indestructible leathers, but alas, I am a little busy.

My breath stutters, my body lurching back from the force of the strike. I barely manage to twist, catching a fleeting glimpse of my attacker before another blow lands, knocking me off balance. My hand flies to my side, fingers pressing against the slick warmth of my blood seeping through my leathers.

The world tilts dangerously. My vision blurs at the edges, dark spots dancing before my eyes. I reach for my blade, but another strike slams into my ribs, sending a sickening crack reverberating through my bones. A strangled gasp escapes me, swallowed by the night. Pain radiates through me, every nerve ignited in raw fire.

My knees buckle.

My body screams for me to fall, to give in—but I won’t. My fingers tighten around the hilt of my weapon, though my grip falters, strength leaking out of me with every ragged breath.

The figures circling me are shifting shadows, moving in a blur, one moment a smear of darkness, the next striking with ease.

Another hit slams into my back, sending me crashing to the ground. My face completely catches my fall; the impact knocks the air from my lungs, which doesn’t make sense since it was my face that hits the ground, but I’m breathless regardless, leaving me choking on nothing but agony. The sharp, metallic taste of blood coats my tongue. Every breath is a battle, knives driving deep into my chest with every inhale.

A chilling thought cuts through the haze: I might not survive this.

Panic grips me. The memory surges, of that sterile morgue, the cold table beneath me, and the terror of waking up when I shouldn’t have. Had I died then? If so… will I come back this time? Or is this it?

Another flash of movement. I try to lift my blade, but my arm is jelly, my strength depleting.. Darkness gnaws at the edges of my mind, tempting, coaxing, promising release. Maybe it would be easier to just… let go.

To slip into the void and escape the pain.

But something inside me resists. A smoldering spark, refusing to be snuffed out. Gritting my teeth, I fight against the pull of unconsciousness, the siren call of surrender.

Not until I understand. Not until I learn why I was brought back, why they fear me, why the prophecy weighs like a curse upon my shoulders.

A figure looms over me, faceless in the darkness, but I feel his intent. I struggle, but my limbs are slow, uncooperative.

The world dims further, but in the depths of my mind, a defiant spark ignites.

I am Selestina de la Cruz.

I am the Shadow Reaper.

The most feared assassin in Tonalli.

I will not be taken down like this.

The realization anchors me, dragging me back from the abyss. With a last, desperate surge of energy, I push up, breaking free of the weight pressing me down. My vision swims, my body protesting, but I force myself to move. My hand clamps onto my blade, though I can barely lift it. I am slowing, faltering. My body betrays me even as my will remains unbroken.

Laughter echoes around me, mocking me. The attackers step back, their movements fluid, practiced. They don’t finish me. They don’t need to. They know I won’t last long.

This was a hit. A message.

My breaths are labored, each one a struggle against the pain clawing through me. The world tilts wildly as I drop to my knees, unable to stop my descent. Blood soaks through my leathers, sticky and hot against the cold night air.

Digging my fingers into the dirt, I force myself to move. Pain flares through me, sharp and merciless, but I push up and forward, one trembling movement at a time. The night air is razor sharp against my skin, the scent of damp earth lingers as I stagger forward.

The world blurs. My mind is slipping, fevered, delirious, but I don’t stop.

Then suddenly, the ground changes beneath my boots—loose dirt giving way to smooth cobblestone. A jolt of recognition pierces through the haze. The academy. I made it. But something is wrong. The journey should have taken hours, not minutes. A shiver crawls down my spine. Had time… bent for me? Or am I already lost in the feverish haze, hallucinating the path home?

Next thing I know, the corridors stretch before me. Each step is a battle, my legs screaming, my vision narrowing. My fingers brush against cold stone, keeping me tethered to the present. I push on, my body trembling with exhaustion.

Finally, I reach my dorm. The door looms before me, distant and surreal. My fingers fumble with the handle, weak and shaking, and I push it open, my room’s magic sensing that it’s me stumbling inside.

Warmth washes over me. The scent of familiarity hits like a wave.

Nasarea is there.

She stands frozen by her bed, her eyes locking onto me, wide with shock. For a moment, silence stretches between us. Then her gaze sharpens, taking in the mask, the blood, the torn leathers clinging to my body.

Recognition flares behind her eyes. Understanding.

And with it, something cold. Unforgiving.

I’ve made a mistake thinking Nasarea can save me.

And I can already feel its weight pressing down on me.

My hand shakes as I reach up, fingers brushing against the edge of the mask.

The world around me blurs…again, all color fading except for her furious gaze locked on mine, her anger burning brighter and brighter.

I peel the mask away, knowing there is no turning back. My face, once hidden, is now laid bare before her; a confession in itself.

She has spent a year waiting for this moment, every ounce of rage held tight, coiled within her, ready to strike. And here I am, the Shadow Reaper, stripped of my defenses, wounded and vulnerable at her feet.

Her expression hardens, her lips pressing into a thin line as she takes in the sight of me. There is no mercy in her eyes, only a cold, simmering fury that feels as sharp as any blade. I can almost feel the weight of her hatred, the resentment she’s carried since that day, and I know that for her, this moment is everything she’s waited for. The Shadow Reaper has come to her, broken, and her revenge is only a breath away .

“Selestina.” She breathes, the single word laced with anger and betrayal.

I barely manage to stay upright, the pain flooding me as I lean against the doorframe, meeting her gaze. “Nasarea… I know what this looks like, but I need you to listen.”

“Listen?” Her voice is a razor, cutting through the haze in my mind. “You… you’re the Shadow Reaper? You… all this time?” Her hands clench at her sides, trembling, and I see the betrayal in her eyes. “Do you know what this means? Do you know what?—”

“Nasarea, please.” I can barely get the words out, my voice hoarse, my chest heaving with the effort. I am only a whisper away from death. Blood is already pooling at my feet. “I need you to look at my memories.”

She takes a step back, her face twisted in anger and confusion. “What?”

“To prove to you that I didn’t kill her.” I’m nearly pleading now, my vision blurring as the exhaustion pulls at me, dragging me under. “Yes, I am the Shadow Reaper, but I swear to you, I didn’t… I didn’t do what you think I did.”

Nasarea’s jaw tightens, her gaze sharp and unforgiving. “And I’m supposed to just believe that? After all this?”

“No,” I say, feeling the strength slip from my voice, from my legs. “I want you to see it for yourself. I know it will hurt, just… please, do it.”

For a moment, she hesitates, her eyes narrowing as she looks at me, her suspicion warring with something almost vulnerable.

Then without another word, she steps forward, placing her hands on either side of my head, her fingers cold against my temples.

Her touch is light at first, but then it sharpens, the pressure increasing, and I feel her power unfurl around me, wrapping itself around my mind like a net.

The pain hits me like a wave, crashing over me with a force that leaves me breathless. It’s a raw. Flashes of my life, flicker before me. Training sessions, harsh words, faces I’d rather forget, missions where blood stained my hands, the weight of every soul taken.

I grit my teeth, the pain unbearable, every fiber of my being screaming in protest, but I force myself to stay still, to let her in.

The moments unfold, one after another, the years peeling back, layer by layer, until I’m bare before her, every scar, every wound, every regret exposed.

And then, finally, she pulls back, her hands dropping from my head as she stumbles backward, her eyes wide, her face pale. I can barely see her, my vision fading in and out, but I catch the glisten of tears in her eyes, the anguish written across her face as she takes in what she’s seen.

“Oh, Selestina…” Her voice is choked, her hands covering her mouth, and I realize with a strange, hollow ache that she’s seen everything. All the beatings, the pain, the endless missions, every dark corner of my life laid bare before her.

I shouldn’t have let her see. But I can’t die. Not again. Not right now.

But before I can say anything, before I can even draw a full breath, her expression shifts, a new fire blazing in her eyes. “Wait… you… you fucked my brother?” Her face pales and she looks like she is going to vomit.

I stare at her, stunned, and then, despite the pain, despite the heaviness in my limbs, a laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me, a strange, delirious sound that feels like both relief and release .

I see her expression shift from rage to disbelief, her mouth twisting as she realizes I’m laughing, and the last thing I feel before the darkness takes me is her promising revenge for making her see that.

Then everything fades, the world slips away as I sink into the welcome embrace of unconsciousness.