“Next time,” Cassian panted, not looking back, “don’tstand there like a godsdamn garnish.”
Another Hollowborn surged from the trees behind him—this one faster, sleeker, limbs longer and tipped with claws that shimmered faintly, like obsidian glass.
Cassian whirled to meet it.
He ducked low under the first swipe, spun, and drove a boot into its chest, sending it stumbling. His hands flared with flame again—and he struck forward, palm-first, lightning snapping the air.
But this oneanticipatedthe move.
As his fire hit, it twisted unnaturally—joints bending backward—and closed the distance with a flickering motion that shouldn’t have been possible. Cassian’s eyes widened.
The creature’s claw caught him under the ribs—deep.
He grunted, staggered, and shoved it off with a snarl, another bolt of fire ripping from his hand and cleaving the thing’s head clean off. The body collapsed in a twitching heap, steam rising from the split bone.
Cassian dropped to one knee, hand pressed to his side.
Blood seeped through his coat in a hot, wet flood.
“Shit,” he growled, voice rough. “That one… cheated.”
Seraphine’s heart slammed against her ribs.
He wasn’t supposed to go down.Not him.He was the one who was supposed toknowthese things—how they moved, killed, andtricked.
“Cassian!” she barked, moving toward him.
“No time,” he hissed, still gripping his side. “More?—”
But she was already there.
Her glaive flashed white in her hands. One final Hollowborn lunged from the tree line, and she spun with terrifyinggrace, blade sweeping in a wide arc. Whitefire surged along the weapon’s edge, and when it hit, it cutclean throughthe creature’s spine. The Hollowborn screamed—high-pitched, fraying at the edges of reality. Then collapsed in on itself like it had never been.
The ash swirled in her wake.
Cassian dropped fully to his knees, head bowed, sweat beading along his brow.
Seraphine reached him fast, dropping beside him. Her fingers pushed back the blood-soaked coat, and what she saw made her breath hitch.
The wound wasn’t just deep—itglowedfaintly at the edges. Hollow poison.
“Dumb bastard,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice steady. “You should’ve dodged.”
“Didn’t know I had to tell the heir to do her own damn saving,” he bit out, but his words were slurring.
“Bleeding out isn’t a power move, Veyne.”
His head lulled. His face had gone pale—too pale. The poison was working fast.
She didn’t hesitate.
Whitefire burst into her hands with a roar. It wasn’t clean magic. It wasn’t gentle. It was apurge—violent, sacred, and ancient. Seraphine’s veins lit up like constellations, and the ground beneath her blackened from the force of it.
She pressed her palm to his wound.
Forced the flame inside.
Cassian screamed.
