The Devourer

Isadora:

Rhett doesn’t ask. He just lifts me.

One moment I’m swaying, shadows and whispers crawling up my spine, and the next I’m weightless against his chest. His scent wraps around me, grounding and dizzying at once.

The world tilts, flickers. I catch glimpses of the others as we move: Silas gliding like smoke at Rhett’s shoulder, eyes fathomless; Lucian following in long strides, his jacket undone, crimson shirt a streak of blood in the candlelight; and Kai, a golden blur, balancing my untouched plate of food as if it were an offering.

No one speaks. The hall doors close behind us with a thud that reverberates through my ribs.

My head lolls against Rhett’s chest. I feel his heartbeat—a steady, thunderous drum—through his shirt. His grip is iron; he carries me like something breakable, yet already claimed.

We pass through corridors washed in fading daylight. The stained-glass windows fracture the sun into shards of color, spilling them across the stone floors. For a moment I think of the vision—the banners burning, glass shattering—and shudder.

When Rhett sets me down at last, it’s on my own bed. The sheets are cool, crisp against my palms. I sink back, dazed. Kai moves silently around the room, arranging the plate of food on the nightstand as though he’s done it a thousand times. Lucian lingers in the doorway, half in shadow, half in light. Silas slides into the corner near my window, where the darkness seems to welcome him like an old friend.

The air is too thick. My room—usually my refuge—feels crowded, charged, heavy with all of them.

I push myself upright. “I’m fine.” My voice is a whisper, weak even to my own ears.

“No,” Rhett says. He stays standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, golden eyes fixed on me. “You’re not.”

Silas tilts his head, the motion birdlike, alien. “She’s sinking,” he murmurs. “The shadows cling tighter every day.”

Kai straightens, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe because we keep feeding them.”

Silas’s gaze flicks to him. “You think this is feeding?”

“I think we’re all giving her something,” Kai says, softer now, almost to himself. “Whether we mean to or not.”

My stomach twists. “What do you mean?”

Rhett’s jaw ticks, but he says nothing. Lucian, still in the doorway, exhales a low laugh—dark, brittle. “Don’t play dumb, little raven. You feel it.”

I do. Even now, even drained and trembling, I feel it: the wolf’s heat from Rhett’s blood bond thrumming like a second heartbeat under my skin; Silas’s shadows whispering at the edges of my thoughts; Kai’s light curled somewhere deep inside me like a hidden ember; and Lucian—Lucian’s hunger pressed close without ever breaking skin, seeping through the space between us.

It’s all inside me.

“What have you done?” My voice shakes.

“What have you?” Lucian counters, eyes narrowing. “You’re the one calling.”

“I didn’t—”

But the shadows shift at my feet, restless, as though answering to my pulse.

Silas pushes away from the wall. “She’s not lying. She’s… becoming. That’s what the darkness keeps saying.”

I close my eyes, whispering the words that have haunted me since the vision: “Devourer.”

Silas goes still. Rhett’s head snaps toward me. Even Lucian straightens, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face.

“The shadows call me that,” I say, forcing the words out. “Devourer. Tamer of the High.”

The silence after is total. Heavy.

“I know,” Kai says.

It’s so soft I almost miss it.

My eyes fly open. All three of the others turn to him, sharp as blades.

“What?” Rhett growls.

Kai stands very still, shoulders tight, golden glow dimmed to a faint halo. He looks at me, not them—his face pale, drawn, exhaustion carved into every line. “I know what you are,” he says again. “I didn’t want to tell you like this.”

The room tilts. “What am I?”

Kai swallows. His hand trembles where it hangs at his side. “Succubus.”

The word hangs in the air like a curse.

Silas’s shadows hiss, retreating from my feet. Rhett takes a sharp step forward, fists clenching. Lucian’s mouth curls—not quite a smile, not quite a snarl.

“You’re sure?” Silas’s voice is low, dangerous.

Kai nods once. “It’s why she’s learning so fast. Why she’s… pulling from us. It’s not just training. It’s being taken. Freely. Unknowingly.”

I can’t breathe. The room is closing in, four walls, four men, four different currents pulling at me until I’m drowning.

Succubus.

The word feels alien and inevitable all at once.

“I didn’t—” My throat closes. “I didn’t mean—”

Rhett moves then, faster than I’ve ever seen him. He’s at my side, crouched, hands on my shoulders, golden eyes burning. “Stop. Breathe.”

“I’ve been feeding on you.” The words spill, broken. “All of you. Without even—”

“You didn’t know,” Rhett cuts in. “This isn’t your fault.”

Silas steps closer, shadows creeping up the wall behind him like dark wings. “Fault doesn’t matter. Consequence does.”

Lucian finally moves from the doorway, slow and deliberate, every inch of him danger wrapped in velvet. “And what consequence would you name, Grim?”

Silas’s eyes flash. “She’s a devourer. She could unmake us.”

“Or make us stronger.” Lucian’s voice drops, dark and rich. “If we don’t break her first.”

The tension is a wire pulled taut between them.

I shake my head, pressing my palms to my temples. “Stop. Please.”

Rhett’s grip tightens on my shoulders. “We’re not going to hurt you,” he says, fierce, as though willing it true.

Kai drags a hand over his face. “We’ve all already given her pieces of ourselves. The blood bond. The shadows. The light. Even you, Lucian.”

Lucian arches a brow. “I haven’t bitten her.”

“No,” Kai says quietly. “But you’ve fed from her, even if it wasn't from a vien.”

Lucian’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing.

My heart pounds. My skin feels too tight. Every memory of training, every moment with them, flashes through me now in a new light—every touch, every lesson, every pulse of power.

They gave. I took.

The shadows shift again, restless, whispering devourer devourer devourer.

“I don’t want this,” I whisper.

Silas tilts his head, almost gentle. “Neither did I.”

I look at him. He’s watching me with something like pity, something like recognition.

“We need to decide,” he says, voice low. “If we’re protecting her—or building her.”

Rhett growls, low and feral. “She’s not a weapon.”

“Everything in this place is a weapon,” Silas counters.

Kai lifts his head, eyes ringed with dark circles. “We don’t have time to debate what she is. We need to figure out what’s coming.”

Lucian chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “What’s coming is already here.”

Their voices blur together, rising and falling, snapping like jaws. Strategy, accusation, fear. Loyalties flicker in the dim light, tested and retested with every word.

I sit in the middle of it all, hands trembling in my lap. The shadows crowd closer, but now I can feel more than their whispers. I can feel the pull—the way each of them burns inside me, four currents twisting together, not mine but not entirely theirs anymore.

Devourer.

I raise my head. My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “Stop arguing.”

They all fall silent.

“I don’t know what I am. I don’t know what’s happening. But I’m not going to sit here while you tear each other apart.”

Rhett looks at me like I’ve just walked out onto thin ice. Silas’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t move. Kai’s hands curl at his sides. Lucian’s expression is unreadable, lips parted, as though I’ve surprised him.

“I’m not your enemy,” I say softly. “I never was.”

For a heartbeat, none of them speak.

Then Rhett exhales, a sound like a growl smoothed into a sigh. “We’ll figure this out,” he mutters. “One way or another.”

Silas’s shadows recede an inch, but his gaze stays sharp. “If we can.”

Kai looks down, jaw working. “We have to.”

Lucian finally smiles, faint and dangerous. “Or we burn.”

The silence that follows is worse than shouting.

I draw in a breath. My hands still tremble, but I lift my chin. Whatever I am, whatever they’ve made me, I can’t be the hollow girl they carry anymore.

Devourer.

Maybe the word isn’t a curse. Maybe it’s a warning.

Or a promise.