Chapter Twelve

Matthew's POV

The fire burned slower than I liked. It was supposed to consume faster. The parchment curled at the edges, the wax seals splitting, but the ritual was steady, deliberate, and precise.

“Patience, Matthew” I murmured to myself. Power required patience.

From the corner of the room, I could see the shadows twisting against the walls, as if they were alive, eager for blood, for destruction. My hands hovered over the obsidian chalice, tracing the faint runes etched into its surface. One drop of the right blood, one crack of energy… and the balance would shift.

“You’re thinking too fast,” a voice hissed behind me.

I didn’t turn. I knew it was Azrael, my second, sharp as a knife, always watching. “I am never too fast,” I said, voice low and calm,“Time is what is slow. The world moves, but it doesn’t act. I act.”

Azrael’s eyes narrowed. “Her blood isn’t yet in your grasp. And you risk alerting others. Witches are like storms, they scream before they strike”

I smiled, tight and sharp. “Then let them scream”

And that made her dangerous. Perfectly dangerous.

I traced a finger along the rim of the chalice, feeling the pull of her blood as if it were a live wire. My veins ached, not for her physically, no, for the power she could give me. The scent of her magic was intoxicating. Sweet, wild, and unrefined.

But the moment I get my hands on her blood…

Power doesn’t care for loyalty or old rivalries.

“I’ve seen her,” Azrael said, voice quieter now. “The girl, the witch. You underestimate her. She’s stronger than you think. I’ve never seen magic like hers and she doesn't even know yet”

“Exactly,” I said, eyes closing for a second as I inhaled. “Which is why I will take it. The power of the ancients, sleeping in her blood, and when I do, I will be unstoppable”

I let my words trail, deliberately vague. The intention hung in the air like a predator’s scent. Azrael shifted but said nothing. He didn’t need to.

“Reports?” I finally asked, opening my eyes, scanning the room like a hawk.

“The witches in the region are restless,” Azrael said. “The green witches in particular… Maria Blake, she’s protective. And there’s Lancaster. He’s cautious, older than he looks, but he underestimates the girl”

I tilted my head, amused, “Underestimates? Perhaps. But he is not the point. She is the point”

“And she’s already in the crossfire,” Azrael said. “Strigois, wolves, even rogue vampires… her scent is a beacon”

“She will survive,” I said, a flick of impatience in my voice. “Because I intend for her to” I paused, letting that sink in. “And when she does, she will come to me, or I will come to her”

Azrael didn’t respond. He never did when I said things like that. He knew better than to argue.

I turned, walking over to the window, hands resting lightly on the sill. Outside, the moon was a pale crescent, cold and watchful. It reminded me of her, in a way. Small but sharp, quiet but dangerous, the kind of power that could slice through centuries of planning if mishandled.

Her power was raw, reckless… beautiful. And I wanted it. Not just for power, but to mold it, control it, and use it as a weapon against those who had wronged me. Against the world that had always denied me what was mine.

Azrael cleared his throat, “Do we strike sooner, or wait?”

I smiled, a thin, dangerous curve. “We wait. Let the others go on, lead the others towards her, I want to see how long she can go on for”

“The wolves are getting cautious,” Azrael said quietly. “The vampire is cautious. They’ve sensed something… stronger than usual”

I tapped my fingers against the obsidian chalice, thinking. “Let them sense. Let them circle. That only ensures I know where to strike. And strike I will. Lyra Hale… you don’t even know the storm you’ve unleashed by simply existing”

Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the panes. The world was shifting, and soon, very soon, it would be impossible for her to hide.

I leaned closer to the chalice, whispering a soft incantation. The flame inside it danced brighter, almost alive, and I imagined her blood coursing through it, glowing, calling to me.

I smiled, letting the darkness inside me stretch, coil, and wait. “Let the hunt begin”