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ANGER & AGONY

CEDRIC

There was blood on the table. Cedric watched a heavy droplet bead at the edge and drip, unhurried and languid, onto the stone floor.

He could hear no other sound, see no other movement. Logically, he knew there was plenty of both. The moment Evander’s sword burst through Kit’s chest the world erupted. Cedric was sure Elyria’s scream still rang in the air.

Nox and Thraigg leapt over the table, the former grabbing hold of Evander and shadowstepping him to the far side of the room, the latter there to catch Kit just before she crumpled to the ground.

And yet, to Cedric, it was like the entire universe had condensed into a single heartbeat of sickening stillness. All he could see was the small “oh” that Kit’s lips had formed, the betrayal and hurt—not just physical pain, but deep, soul-killing hurt —in her mismatched eyes.

In the silence, he thought he could hear that sole droplet of blood as it splashed onto the floor. His thoughts churned, rapid waves crashing into one another. I should have known. I should have done something. I could have prevented this.

He’d known something was off. Evander’s sudden appearance had struck Cedric all wrong. After twenty-five years of separation, how was the fae full of nothing but confident smiles and charming swagger?

From that first moment, he was too perfect. Too smooth. Cedric’s fingers had itched for his sword the instant he laid eyes on the man. But... Elyria . He saw it—the way the disbelief in her eyes had morphed into something else. More than relief, more than joy. Something like hope . He heard the way her breath hitched at the sound of Evander’s voice. And all of Cedric’s unease and wariness was suddenly blanketed with a thick cloud of something he had absolutely no right to feel.

He was jealous .

And so, he’d forced himself to dismiss his better judgment, worried he was imposing his personal feelings on their reunion, chalking up the suspicion lurking in his gut to his own traitorous emotions.

He would never ignore those instincts again.

Kit’s ragged gasp pierced through his stupor, and Cedric came crashing back to the present. Back to the maelstrom of panic and shouting and screaming.

I could have prevented this.

Elyria fell to her knees, cradling Kit’s head in her lap. Zephyr seemed frozen by the shock of it all, hesitating before swarming the fallen fae, green light glowing in her hands. Pain radiated from Kit in waves so large and looming Cedric swore he could see it—misty clouds pulsing into the ether, as if her own magic was trying to escape the agony.

The metallic tang of blood coated the air.

Not just Kit’s, either, Cedric realized, as a shout drew his attention to where Nox and Evander were engaged in battle. Evander held another darksteel blade, having seemingly snatched it from thin air, while Nox twirled twin batons in their hands. The nocterrian already had a long gash running up their forearm, their shadows gathering around Evander’s legs, struggling to restrain him. With the wave of his free hand, the shadows dissipated, and Evander walked through them as if they had never been there at all.

A cry rent the air, followed by a squelching sound that turned Cedric’s stomach. Metal clanged against stone as Zephyr pulled the darksteel blade from Kit’s torso and discarded it on the ground. Thraigg wasted no time in grabbing it, charging toward Evander with a curse. He hurled the weapon at the dark fae. Droplets of blood spun off the blade in a splattering arc as it cut through the air, aimed at a spot in the dead-center of Evander’s back, right between his wings.

Cedric held his breath. But Evander pivoted at the last second, twisting on his feet so fast, Cedric would have missed it if he’d blinked. The blackened edge of the dark blade sliced across Evander’s ribs, eliciting a hiss of pain and forcing him to stagger back.

Now , Cedric thought, his hands reaching for his sword, his body finally leaping into motion. They would have to subdue Evander now, before he could draw any more blood, cause any more pain. They would get to the bottom of why he’d done this after. Later. Once they made sure Kit was all right.

He refused to think she would be anything but.

With one final look at Elyria, head bowed over her friend, her body covering Kit’s as she whispered soothing shushes in her ear, Cedric moved. Together, he and Thraigg dashed across the chamber to close ranks with Nox...only to stop short as a deep, menacing laugh began emanating from Evander.

Shivers ran down Cedric’s spine, the laugh echoing around the chamber, cold and wrong . Evander’s jerking backward stagger came to a halt. Cedric’s eyes narrowed on the fae’s side where the darksteel blade had cut him, dark blood pooling on his skin.

Not blood.

Black liquid, thick as tar, seeped from the gash. Cedric stared, lips parting in shock as the strange, viscous substance spread. It beaded and dripped onto the floor, but also curled up Evander’s ribs, moving like it had a life force all its own. His bronze skin darkened and faded, the color draining as the substance skittered over his body, black veins bulging in its wake. His shimmering gold wings flickered—the wavering wick of a candle about to be blown out.

Elyria’s choked cry cut through the air as those once-magnificent wings tore, their delicate membranes shredding like aged parchment. Pieces flitted to the floor like ashes while the ragged, tattered remains fluttered loosely.

No longer the wings of a princely fae in his prime, but those of a creature long since corrupted. Veins crept from Evander’s eyes, the whites of which had turned an unholy, unnatural black.

“No...” Elyria’s voice was almost lost amidst the maniacal chuckle still coming from the creature before them. She was standing now, Cedric noticed, having taken just a few steps toward them, fear and indecision slowing her movements. Behind her, Kit lay on her side, eyes closed, ribs lifting with shallow breaths, while Zephyr continued working hurriedly to contain the fallout of her wound.

“Evander, please, no,” Elyria continued, taking another step. Her voice was weak. Cedric had never seen her like this. She seemed so...frail.

Evander’s head whipped toward her, a grim smile plastered on his vein-streaked face. “My love,” he said, as if in greeting.

Shock fixed her soft features in place. Her eyes were pinned open in horror, her lips parted with dawning realization.

Cedric tightened his hand around his drawn sword, stepping into Evander’s line of sight, cutting off Elyria from view. “Why do this?”

Evander’s cruel smile widened, twisting his formerly-handsome features, now more monster than man. “Wouldn’t you like to know, my lord ?”

Cedric balked at the way Evander’s lip curled around the words, throwing them back at him, mocking him. And was there something else hidden in those two little words? Cedric couldn’t begin to understand the dark fae’s meaning.

Nox drew their batons together, crossing them in an X in front of their face, crimson eyes burning a hole into the dark creature before them. “What are you?”

“I’m not sure you’re ready to know,” Evander replied. Then he lunged.

In the blink of an eye, his darksteel blade collided with Nox’s batons, showering the nocterrian in sparks. Cedric leapt forward, drawing his sword up in a long slash poised to knock Evander’s weapon from his hands.

But the fae was too strong, too fast. With a grunt of effort, he broke through Nox’s defense and slashed across their torso, sending them stumbling back. A wet streak bloomed across their dark clothes. At the same time, Evander’s free hand twisted in the air, an icy shield forming right as Cedric’s sword swung up.

The clash of steel and ice rang in Cedric’s skull. He cursed under his breath. Spinning on the spot, he brought his sword down toward Evander’s shoulder. The fae parried with a swift upward motion, darksteel meeting Cedric’s sword with such force that the impact reverberated up his arm.

He ducked to dodge Evander’s returning strike. Behind him, Thraigg let out a shout, charging with his hammer raised high. He swung. Evander laughed. Then, as if dancing to the sound of the alarmed shouts coming from Nox, Cedric, and Elyria alike, he gracefully stepped into a shadow.

Thraigg’s hammer connected with nothing, throwing him off-center.

Everyone in the room held their collective breath as one heartbeat ticked by, then another. The shock of learning Evander could shadowstep was incredibly heavy as it settled on Cedric’s shoulders. The tideweaving magic, Cedric knew to expect based on what Elyria had told him earlier, but this?

A glance at her told him she was just as stunned. He backed up another step, moving that much closer to where Elyria stood frozen in the center of the room. Having regained his balance, Thraigg exchanged a wary glance with Cedric.

Another few seconds passed. Confusion settled deeper into the lines of Cedric’s frown. Where did Evander go? Had he...run away? No. The champions may have technically outnumbered him, but all one had to do was take one look at Nox, clutching their abdomen, and Kit and Zephyr still on the floor on the opposite side of the room, to see that the champions were at a serious disadvantage.

Cedric’s focus flew back to Kit, unconscious but breathing steadily. Zephyr wiped at her forehead and got up from the ground, nodding at Cedric as he caught her eye. Kit would live. For now, at least.

The briefest flash of relief ran through Cedric as he tracked his gaze to Elyria, hoping to convey some kind of reassurance, even as every hair on his neck still stood on end.

And then Thraigg was roaring, Evander having materialized in the same spot he’d disappeared from. As if rather than stepping through the shadows, he’d simply been...hiding in them.

Disgust and alarm mixed in Cedric’s stomach as a dark, veiny hand grabbed Thraigg, black nails curling around his wrist. A hideous crack sounded as he wrenched the dwarf’s arm in the wholly wrong direction, the hammer falling to the ground with a heavy thud . Thraigg’s howl of pain echoed in the chamber as he dropped to one knee, clutching his shattered arm.

Zephyr screamed, darting forward with a furious grace. Cedric wanted to warn her to stay back, all too aware that though she might have stabilized Kit, the threat was far from over. They couldn’t risk their best healer jumping into the fray. But he barely had time to take a single step before Evander raised his hand and sent a wave of rushing water at the sylvan. It slammed into her, sending her flying into the stone wall behind her with a wet crunch.

“Zephyr!” Cedric ran forward once more, meeting Evander’s darksteel sword with his own in a flurry of chaotic blows. Strike. Dodge. Lunge. Parry. Tables and chairs fell over in their path as they battled their way across the chamber. Sparks flew from the places where their blades met. Around them was only chaos. Blood. Screams. Pain.

And through it all, Evander laughed. A deep, hollow sound that seemed like it was coming from the very walls of the Sanctum, as if he were enjoying every second of the carnage.

Cedric’s breath grew ragged. He was slowing, his body screaming in protest as he drew his blade up once more to meet Evander’s most recent blow. Somewhere deep inside, he tried to stir that spark of warmth, to kindle that heat. If ever there was a time for him to erupt in flame, let it be to take down this dark creature before he destroyed them all.

As if he sensed his resolve, Evander’s black eyes locked onto Cedric’s. For a moment, the two men just stared, swords grating against each other, the air thick with magic and the tang of blood .

“You truly think you can stop me, little knight?” Evander sneered. “You have no idea what I am trying to do here.”

“I do not care,” Cedric said. “Whatever it is you aim to accomplish, you mean to do so with death and blood. No more.”

That cold, calculated laugh emerged once more. “Oh, the irony. I told him many times how fruitless this would be.” He reared back, blade crashing down on Cedric’s with a clang.

Cedric drew back, holding his sword in front of him with both hands, the sharp tip leveled at Evander’s chest. “Who is him ?”

“I told him there was little point in binding me here without a fleshed-out plan to conquer the next Crucible. Without a true champion to take the crown. It won’t let just anybody take it, you understand. You have to be worthy .”

“Isn’t that the whole point of the entire stars-damned Crucible?” Cedric asked, his sword starting to waver in the air. “To prove only the worthiest will emerge as victor?”

Ignoring him, Evander continued. “Still, he insisted. He told me it would be worth it, in the end. That he’d already heard whispers of where to go next, of what he needed.” His eyes narrowed, never leaving Cedric’s face. “Who he needed. And so, I agreed. I let him use me to free himself from the bindings of the Crucible, let him plant a bead of his power in me before he left.”

“W-what are you saying?” Elyria snapped free of her paralysis, her voice cutting through the air. “You...you chose to stay here? You chose to become this ?”

Evander finally broke his gaze from Cedric, turning to face his former love. He curled his fingers in toward his palm, conjuring a tiny stream of water and letting it dance between his blackened fingertips. “When one is caught in a riptide, is it truly a choice to allow yourself to be swept up in it?”

“Yes,” she said. “It is.”

“Even when the alternative is to swim against the stronger tide? To paddle until exhaustion takes you, until you sink, until you drown?”

“There is always a choice.”

“Hmm. Rather a lofty position for you to take, my love. I would think you of all people should understand where I am coming from. ”

She shook her head. “This isn’t you.” Her voice was thick, her hands trembling. “I know you’re still in there. The real you. Let me help you.”

For a moment, Evander hesitated. Cedric thought he saw his dark eyes soften, saw the veins around them recede ever so slightly. “Help me?” His voice was softer. “You cannot help me, love. Not anymore. Varyth saw to that.”

Elyria took another step closer, and like he was tied to her, Cedric stepped with her, closing the distance between them. Tears streamed from her eyes, and Cedric yearned to drop his sword long enough to wipe them from her cheeks. But he didn’t, keeping the blade trained on Evander, even as it appeared he’d all but forgotten about Cedric entirely.

“Tell me what happened,” she pleaded.

Evander’s expression shuttered, all traces of whatever emotion had broken through gone. “A life for a life,” he said, matter-of-factly. “That was the price. Varyth escaped the Crucible by using my life-debt to sever his own. Only instead of killing me outright, his dark magic kept me alive. Tied to this place”—he gestured widely, repulsion on his face—“but alive. I was his little secret. His watchdog, waiting in the shadows. I was to stay out of the Arbiter’s line of sight. Stay hidden. Until the next Crucible came and brought with it someone worthy enough to free us all.”

He began pacing then, twirling his darksteel blade at his side like it was a toy rather than a deadly weapon. He barely spared a glance as he passed the other champions, still collapsed or crumpled in their various corners of the room. Thraigg hissed as Evander came close but showed no sign of otherwise moving.

“But, alas, waiting is an exhausting game,” Evander continued. “And he may need someone worthy to win him the crown, but his promises have grown rather thin over the years. I was no longer content to sit back and wait. I was tired of watching. The Arbiter is so slow about things, you see. I thought it better if I offered a helping hand instead.”

Elyria sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Did you...What have you done with the Arbiter?”

“Nothing,” he said with a scoff. “Were I but capable of ‘doing’ anything to her...Sadly, power does not exist on this plane strong enough to do a stars-damned thing to a celestial. But I was able to keep her from contacting you. Is it such a terrible crime to have wanted to see how my darlings fared in the third trial without her guidance?”

Her? A celestial? What does that ? —

Nox’s guttural groan sliced through Cedric’s whirring thoughts.

“The magic in the labyrinth’s walls,” they said softly.

Evander grinned as he strode past them.

A soft gasp slipped from Elyria’s lips. “The walls...and the chasm that opened in the cavern. That was you?”

Evander tutted. “I couldn’t very well have allowed that human witch to kill you all, could I?”

“You nearly killed her too,” Cedric said through gritted teeth, tipping his head toward Elyria. He recalled the panic that had flashed through him when Zephyr relayed all that had occurred in the cavern prior to his arrival. How Elyria had been perhaps seconds from meeting the same fate as Leona.

As if she was chasing the same thought, Elyria went on to say, “And our inability to fly?”

“Alas, no,” Evander said. “That was simply the Crucible at work. A futile attempt at providing an even slate, even odds. All that sort of rot.” He slowed as he returned to where Elyria stood, stopping little more than an arm’s width away. “You did so, so well during the trials, by the way. You faced your inner darkness, like I always knew you could, and look at you now. I am so proud of you, my love. Did I tell you that already? If not, you will have to forgive me.”

She scoffed, her eyes going to Kit’s prostrate form, disbelief distorting her features. As if she couldn’t fathom the fact that he would ask forgiveness for some perceived slight of manners when he just tried to kill his own sister.

He followed her gaze and clucked his tongue. “Ah, yes. Sadly, Katerina’s performance has been less admirable.”

Elyria stiffened. “She came here for you ,” she hissed, emerald daggers shooting from her eyes.

Her reaction eased some of the tension in Cedric’s gut. He was worried Evander’s serpentine words might have wormed their way under her skin. But this dark thing was clearly not the man Elyria knew. No matter how many pretty words he spun .

Evander’s head dipped. “I know,” he said, and if Cedric didn’t already know better, he might have thought a flicker of genuine sadness shone through the dark fae’s gravelly voice. “And her sacrifice will not be in vain. Her death paves the way for my freedom. You and I can leave together. Just pick one of them”—he waved a lazy hand at the injured champions strewn around the room—“to do the same for you. The stronger the emotional connection you have, the greater the magic will be, but any of them will do. And we can walk out of here.”

A horrified expression dawned on Elyria’s face, and Cedric watched the last shreds of hope that the true Evander— her Evander—was still somewhere inside crumble into dust.

“You’re mad,” she said, moving her head from side to side as if she might shake the terrible words from her ears.

Evander stepped toward Elyria. She balked, mirroring his movement and moving back at the same clip so as to maintain the distance between them. Cedric rushed to her side, his arm brushing her back, his hip grazing hers.

“I’d never do that,” she continued, her back straightening. A bolt of pride zipped through Cedric. “And Kit isn’t dead. You failed. We will tackle whatever final challenge the Crucible may hold, one of us will win that crown, and then we will leave. I can only hope that when the Crucible is won, your soul will be able to find peace.”

Cedric tensed at the renewed malice in Evander’s gaze.

“You force my hand, Elle,” he said, that fake sadness coating his words again.

She spat at his feet. “Don’t call me that.”

“You are the only one among them who is worthy.” Evander’s black eyes flicked to the places where Cedric and Elyria were touching before landing on his face. “No matter what he may think. And if you will not choose, I will choose for you.”

“No!” Elyria screamed, but before Cedric could even lift his sword again, water was spinning from Evander’s fingertips. It encircled Cedric, a massive orb of churning water that lifted him from the ground, his sword falling away uselessly as he was swept inside.

Water was everywhere. There was no up, there was no down. He spun and spun as icy liquid filled his nostrils, ran down his throat .

It tasted shockingly bright.

Cedric punched his arms out, kicked his legs, trying to swim, trying to move forward or backward or up or down in a desperate search for the surface. For the life-giving air on the outside.

But he had no purchase. No sense of up or down or left or right. He couldn’t gain an inch in any direction as the roiling water kept him spinning.

Darkness crept into the edges of his vision. He clawed at his throat and beat at his chest, as if he might physically pull the water from his lungs. He begged that spark inside him to ignite, to burn it all away, but it had extinguished right alongside his will.

He was drowning.

He was dying.

And as a blur of purple flashed past the opaque walls of his aquatic prison, he was sorry about that.