Page 45

45

DANTE

“E nough,” Seraphiel says, breaking us apart.

His boots don’t touch the ground. He glides —like a god playing king in someone else’s dream. His wings ripple, six burning banners of light and corruption. His smile is carved from madness.

Liora stands tall, shoulders squared, her chest rising and falling too fast.

But her hands tremble.

And I feel it— every instinct in me screaming. Because something is wrong.

He twists his hand mid-stride—just a flick of his fingers—and Liora gasps.

She drops like she’s been punched in the gut, knees hitting the broken dirt, one hand braced to keep from face-planting.

“Liora!” I shout, but I can’t move fast enough.

I try.

But Seraphiel turns his gaze on me, and it’s like running into a wall of fire and ice. My legs lock. My breath snags. The power radiating off him is suffocating.

“You see?” Seraphiel purrs, looking down at her, smug as sin. “You may be powerful, little star—but you are nothing without control. Without me. ”

She’s clutching her chest now, eyes squeezed shut, like something inside her is being ripped apart.

“You don’t have to do this!” she spits, her voice cracking around pain. “You don’t have to?—”

“I don’t have to do anything,” he snaps, his voice booming across the field like thunder tearing the sky in half. “But I want to. I will. Because you were made to kneel.”

He crouches in front of her, elegant and cruel.

“Submit, and I’ll let the rest of them live.”

My blood turns to ice.

She looks up at him, teeth gritted, glowing cracks starting to appear in her skin like starlight trying to burst through.

She’s breaking.

And I’m dying just watching.

I push against the power holding me in place.

It feels like knives dragging through my ribs, but I keep going. My feet drag through blood and broken stone. Every step forward is like walking through a storm that wants to skin me alive.

“Get away from her,” I growl, voice more breath than sound.

Seraphiel doesn’t even glance at me.

He’s too busy watching her fall apart.

“You love him,” he sneers, brushing a finger against her jaw. “How quaint.”

Liora trembles, trying to recoil—but her body won’t let her. Not with his magic inside her veins.

He keeps talking, poison dripping from every syllable. “Do you think that’s strength? That pathetic little ache in your chest? That’s your undoing. ”

“No,” I say, forcing one more step, sweat burning down my face, my fingers numb around the hilt of my sword. “It’s your fucking end. ”

He finally looks at me, and the fury that flashes in his golden eyes nearly flattens me.

“You would give your life for her?” he asks, voice low and cold and almost curious.

“I already did,” I snap. “Every damn day since I met her.”

Then I drop the blade. Raise my arms. And offer it.

“My life. Take it. Let her go.”

Liora screams, “Dante, NO!”

But I don’t look at her. I can’t. Because I know this is the only way.

Love is the one thing Seraphiel can’t manipulate. The one thing he doesn’t understand. So I give it freely. Every fractured, bloody, terrified piece of it.

For her.

Something shifts. Like the world tilts.

Seraphiel reels back—just an inch. Confused. Eyes narrowing as if he felt it too.

And Liora gasps, her hands fly up. The magic inside her surges. Not because of rage. Because of me. Because love is the key. And I see it happen.

The spell snaps. Blood-magic breaks. And Seraphiel staggers.

“ NO— ” he growls, the sound pure fury, wings flaring, power bleeding from his palms like venom.

I rush forward, pushing through the final wave of pain that crashes into me like a freight train.

Every nerve screams. My knees buckle. But I get to her.

I reach her.

And then the world goes black.