For a time, I believed it.
Then I sober up. And I remember the manipulation and the hours of torture. Every “special” lesson, every scar, served one purpose: for Nora to gain control.
Not to help me. Not to save me. To own me.
I fall into step behind Kalix, watching the tree line and the rooftops, waiting for the first sign of a new player in our game.
My vision is sharper in the dark than most. A gift from whatever dark force sired my magic. The night is clear and sharp, nearly as visible as if it were bathed in sunlight. But distance is my limit. The further away I try to focus, the more the details blur.
A shift. A whisper.
Something stirs ahead, not seen but felt. My magic awakens of its own will, coiling at the edges of my skin, recognizing a darkness I cannot yet see.
The guest house looms in the distance. The small, forest green cottage is almost black under the cover of night.
Then I reach the door.
Awareness slices into me. A sharp pull. A whisper of instinct.
A warning.
“You are going to want to cover as much skin as possible.” My voice is a low growl, almost lost in the thickening air. The argent glow of my eyes intensifies, bleeding silver light into the dark.
And the house changes.
Its true color reveals itself beneath my gaze.
Chapter 5
Cage
THE MOMENT WE STEP INSIDE, the air turns heavy.
Sulfur lingers in the air, thick and acrid. It burns the back of my throat. There’s no light, not even the faint flicker of a candle.
The wood beneath our feet groans as we move deeper into the entrance. Kalix silently closes the door behind us. His hand moves to his sword. The scraping of steel against leather is barely audible in the silence. I do the same, mirroring his movements as my eyes sweep the house.
The first floor is undisturbed.
To the left, the kitchen is shrouded in shadows. The only light filters through a moonlit window, casting sharp silver outlines across the counters.
To the right, the living room sits in eerie stillness. A lonely clock on the wall. Its rhythm beats far too loudly. White sheetsdrape over the furniture. Untouched, frozen in place, I surmise the house hasn’t been used in some time.
So why the hell is the Duke here?
My fingers tighten around the hilt of my sword, keeping the blade raised in a defensive position across my torso.
The wood creaks above us.
We freeze, listening. Silence follows.
I tilt my head toward the staircase and push forward, taking two steps at a time to minimize the sound of my boots on aged wood. Kalix follows.
The second-floor splits into two parallel halls, both lined with closed doors. Shadows stretch long and still, unbroken by candlelight.
Something isn’t right.
“Should we flip a coin?” Kalix whispers.
