Kareth lunges toward them, a flash of charcoal skin and amber eyes. I intercept him, slamming my shoulder into his chest with enough force to crack ribs. The impact rattles through me, but I barely register the pain. We crash into the table, the stone crumbling as we hit the floor in a tangle of limbs and blades.
"Run!" I shout to Esalyn, catching Kareth's wrist as he tries to drive a dagger toward my throat. His skin burns hot beneath my grip, those crimson undertones swirling across his flesh like lava beneath obsidian.
Esalyn grabs Erisen and bolts for the door, the boy's wide golden eyes locked on me as they flee. Something in his gaze—trust, fear, confusion—twists in my chest like a blade.
Kareth's teeth snap near my face, too close. "You've gone soft," he hisses, his breath sulfurous and hot. "For what? A human whore and her half-breed whelp?"
Rage explodes through me like wildfire. I smash my forehead into his face, feeling cartilage crunch beneath the impact. Kareth howls, amber eyes flaring brighter as black blood spurts from his broken nose.
"Not. Another. Word." Each syllable punctuates another strike as I drive my knee into his sternum, using the momentum to throw him off me.
He recovers with unnatural grace, those stag-like horns catching the light as he rolls to his feet. Blood drips down his chin, staining his teeth as he grins at me.
"You know what Vorrak does to human women," he taunts, circling me like a predator. "What he'll do to her when I bring her back. Maybe he'll let me watch this time."
I don't answer with words. My blade whistles through the air, barely missing his throat as he dances backward through the doorway, drawing me out into the street. Exactly what he wants—space to maneuver, to use his speed.
We spill into the narrow alley, blades catching the morning light. Around us, onlookers scatter, pressing into doorways or fleeing entirely. No one interferes when demons fight. They know better.
Kareth moves like smoke, each strike flowing into the next. His double daggers blur as he slices toward my ribs, my throat, my eyes—testing, taunting, looking for weakness. I block and parry, my larger frame making each impact heavier but slower.
"I followed you for days," he says, voice casual despite the violence of his movements. "Watching you play house with them. Pretending you're something other than what we are."
His blade nicks my shoulder, drawing a line of hot blood. I barely feel it through the rage pounding in my veins.
"When Vorrak sent me, I couldn't believe it." Kareth's laughter is cold as winter. "The great Domno Vrath'Sarrin, reduced to petting a human child and fucking its mother."
I roar, abandoning defense for a brutal offensive strike. My blade catches his upper arm, opening a deep gash that spills black blood down his skin. The satisfaction is short-lived as he uses my momentum against me, spinning inside my guard to slam his elbow into my ribs.
Pain flares, sharp and bright. A cracked rib, maybe two.
"I'm going to enjoy this." Kareth's eyes gleam with something darker than ambition. "When I'm done with you, I'll find them. Bring them back to Vorrak in pieces if I have to."
Something fundamental shifts inside me at his words—not just anger but clarity, crystalline and absolute. This isn't about me anymore. Not about my failures or my past.
This is about Esalyn's smile in the morning light. About Erisen's small hand trustingly held in mine. About the life I never thought I deserved but suddenly, desperately want.
"You won't touch them." The words emerge as a promise, cold and certain.
Kareth's mouth twists. "You can't stop me. You couldn't even save your own brother."
The blow lands harder than any blade. For a heartbeat, Zevan's face flashes before me—young, trusting, dead because I failed him. The memory nearly costs me my head as Kareth's dagger whistles past my ear.
I recover, barely, catching his wrist and twisting brutally until something snaps. He doesn't scream—demons like us were trained to swallow pain—but his eyes flare with hatred.
"They're not yours to protect," he snarls, striking with his off-hand in a move that slices across my chest. "They belong to Lord Vorrak."
"They belong to themselves." I drive my knee into his stomach, following with an uppercut that snaps his head back. "And I belong with them."
The truth of it reverberates through me as we crash against a stone wall, cracking the mortar with the force. Blood slicks the cobblestones beneath our boots—his and mine—as blade meets blade in a dance we've both known since childhood.
I drive my blade deep into Kareth's throat, twisting to ensure the wound is fatal. His amber eyes widen in shock, then narrow in fury as black blood cascades over my knuckles. His mouth opens, forming words I'll never hear as he slides down the stone wall, leaving a dark smear in his wake.
"Find peace in the dark, old friend," I mutter, though we were never friends. His body slumps forward, those antler-like horns scraping against the cobblestones as he falls.
The sudden silence rings in my ears. Battle-heat drains from my limbs, leaving me hollow and aching as I stalk down the alley?—
And find nothing but empty air everywhere I look. No sign of Esalyn and Erisen.
