Page 59 of The Midnight Death Match

A soft breeze stirs through the broken arches, carrying the faintest ripple of approaching steps.

Harek stiffens before I fully comprehend it. His hand hovers near his blade but doesn’t draw.

Lys steps into view, emerging from the shadowed entrance with his usual calm. “Forgive the interruption, but solitude rarely offers comfort in places like this.”

Harek watches him closely. “You always arrive at just the right time.”

“Old habit.” His gaze meets mine, and though his tone stays light, there’s weight beneath it. “You carry it heavily tonight.”

I draw a breath. “You know why.”

“I do.” His gaze softens. “And still, you endure.”

He steps closer, stopping just outside Harek’s reach, careful but confident. “The truth you uncovered was never meant for you to survive, Eira. You weren’t supposed to exist outside their narrow vision. And yet here you are.”

“And yet hereyouare,” Harek mutters.

Lys ignores him. His voice lowers, tone smooth and silky. “They wrote a rule of sacrifice, but rules can break.”

“I know what you’re suggesting,” I say carefully.

“I’m suggesting nothing you haven’t already begun to consider.” He glances between me and Harek, clearly reading the current between us like a map. “You believe standing together will shield you from the price they demand. But standing side by side doesn’t erase the blade they forged.”

I clench my jaw.

“Wewill decide what becomes of us,” Harek says, voice even. “Not you or anyone else.”

Lys turns slightly toward him, but his gaze remains polite. “You still hope loyalty alone can rewrite blood.”

“Loyalty changes everything,” Harek answers.

“Perhaps.” Lys looks back at me, softer now. “But hope is fragile.” His voice dips, threading into something intimate. “When you are ready to consider other paths, I will listen.”

I feel the heat of Harek’s tense stare beside me.

For one dangerous heartbeat, I wonder what I fear more. The curse that demands my blood, or the quiet certainty Lys carries like a blade I cannot see.

He inclines his head then slips back into the shadows, vanishing once more into the broken night.

Harek’s entire body tenses as he mutters something I can’t quite make out.

The quiet stretches after Lys disappears, heavy as stone between me and Harek.

I barely have time to steady my breath when another set of footsteps approaches—calmer, heavier.

My father stops a few paces away, taking in the scene with quick, sharp eyes. His gaze lingers briefly where Lys stood, but he says nothing of it. Instead, he turns his full attention to me. “You should be resting.”

“I can’t.”

He nods, seeming to have expected the answer.

“We have the truth now,” I whisper. “And it changes nothing. There’s no loophole. We still have to…” My voice cracks, and I can’t bring myself to speak what the curse demands of us.

“It changes everything,” Einar corrects softly. “Now we see how deep the rot runs. And we see the choice still waiting.”

I look up at him, my voice nearly breaking again. “A choice that demands one of us dies.”

“If fate still demands it, we face it, but not by surrender or fear.” His expression doesn’t falter, and he steps closer, kneeling so his gaze is level with mine. “I will not run from this. If I fall, I fall fighting beside you. If I live, I live fighting beside you. But I will not turn my back on you—not for their curse, not for their history, not for anything. And if I must give my life for you, then it’s a sacrifice I’m glad to make.”