91

EZRA

I don't fight it.

The moment the darkness pulls me under, I let it.

No claws.

No growls.

No resistance.

Just... surrender.

It’s been a long time since I felt peace.

And this?

This feels a lot like it.

Like giving up. Like finally laying down the blade I’ve been carving myself open with.

I close my eyes.

I don't want to see Malik.

I don't want to see the Enforcer.

I don't want to see the thrones that wait behind the veil, or the council that will strip me down to nothing.

I only want to see her.

And I can't.

The last time I did, she was unconscious.

Still.

Fragile.

Bruised.

Her dress was torn.

A mark blooming on her cheek from where the chaos had brushed against her too hard.

What if it wasn’t just a bruise?

What if she never woke up?

What if I pushed her away… straight into the hands of someone who couldn’t keep her safe?

I shoved her into Malik’s orbit. Into a bar that turned into a warzone. Into a night soaked in blood and fire.

All because I thought I was protecting her.

All because I was too much of a coward to stay.

I ache.

Not physically.

That would be easy.

This is something deeper.

Worse.

A kind of grief I don’t even have proof for.

She might be dead.

He—The Twelfth Elder—he might’ve taken her.

He might’ve thought she’d seen too much.

Might’ve erased her like she was just another ripple in the wrong timeline.

And I’ll never know.

I didn’t even tell her I loved her.

I didn’t say it when she cried in my arms.

Didn’t say it when she reached for me like I was still worth saving.

Didn’t say it when I felt the bond snap, and something inside me died with it.

I thought pushing her away would protect her.

But all I did was kill her slowly.

The guilt claws at my chest like a second leash.

Malik is breathing beside me. 

Of course he is.

He always lands on his feet.

I sigh.

She was in the middle of it.

Human. Mortal. Breakable.

I should’ve shielded her.

I should’ve burned the world down for her before I let it get this close.

I should’ve fought the curse. Fought the rule. Fought the council. Fought fate itself if I had to.

But I didn’t.

I ran.

And now she’s gone.

I don’t even care what the Council does to me now. They could rip my mind apart, carve memories from my skull, chain me in fire for a hundred years—I don’t care.

Because the only thing I want…

The only thing I need…

Is gone.

And it’s my fault.

I shut my eyes, bracing myself for the fall. And when I feel the change in the air, I flip them open.

Someone would’ve thought the Underworld would be dark. That it would be endless pits and flickering torches and shadows that bite just like its name.

But it’s not.

There’s light.

In most halls of the palace, there's soft, golden, unnatural light that glows from the walls themselves. It hums low in the silence, like the building is breathing. Like the stone remembers everything that ever happened inside it and it wants you to remember too.

We’re dropped right in the center of it. The Throne Room.

The Council's keep.

A cold floor of obsidian stretches beneath me. A circle of twelve thrones surrounds us.

The Twelfth Elder is gone. Just like that. He never needs to explain himself since he’s not a warden.

He’s a weapon.

And now that we are here, he vanishes—like he was never there to begin with.

Which is worse somehow.

It means we done enough damage and don't matter enough to linger for.

I stay kneeling. My body is sore, but I ignore it.

Malik shifts beside me.

It’s only now, in the silence, that I realize how familiar this place feels.

The last time I was here…

I glance up.

Right there.

The side of the farthest throne, left side of the circle—one of the council members had sat forward in that very seat as Malik stood in front of the Council, his shirt torn, his jaw bruised, and Hailey’s blood still drying beneath his nails.

The charge was simple.

He broke the code.

They called it “tampering.”

I called it his obsession.

He was supposed to be exiled, silenced and cut off.

Instead?

He got sent to Africa.

Exile, yes—but not the kind that breaks you.

The kind that lets you build a new kingdom of chaos in someone else’s land. And now? Now he’s back.

I glance over just as he looks at me.

His bottom lip is still split from where I punched him. Blood crusted, drying. His cheekbone is bruised, red, and sharp beneath the skin.

But he smirks anyway.

That same smug, infuriating little curve of his lips.

Like he’s proud.

Like he didn’t just throw a match into my already-burning wreckage and watch it burn brighter.

“You still hit like a bitch,” Malik says casually, voice low, echoing in the grand silence.

I don't look at him. Not really. I keep my eyes on the thrones, watching the runes carved into the stone.

But he keeps talking.

“I mean, you’ve got flair,” he muses. “I’ll give you that. You always liked your little fire tricks. But in a real fight?”

He chuckles.

“I forgot how soft heartbreak makes you.”

I snap my head toward him.

His smile widens.

There’s blood on his teeth.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I say, voice rough.

“Don’t I?” he drawls. “Because from where I’m standing, you let her go.”

My nostrils flare, blood burning from the need to hurt him back, so I ask tauntingly, “Just like you did to Hailey?”

He shrugs. “Why not? I loved her… once. The way you ‘loved’ Thea.”

His tone drips with sarcasm. Like he’s quoting me. Mocking me.

“But she died,” he continues. “Because the Council said she was weak. Because I was reckless. Because I broke the rules.”

His eyes flicker with something behind the smugness. For just a second. Maybe real pain.

If it is, he deserves it.

And then it’s gone.

“And what did you do?” he asks. “You stood there. You let them strip her from me. You didn’t say a word.”

“I wasn’t the one who used her like a goddamn lab rat. Don't blame me for your failure to protect what's yours.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffs. “I loved her. I tried to save her.”

I grit my teeth.

“Sound familiar?” he whispers.

The silence crackles between us.

“She’s not dead,” I say, but it comes out more like a question.

Malik doesn’t answer.

Just studies me for a beat.

Then he smiles again.

“That’s the thing about Thea, isn’t it? She’s always been stronger than you thought.”

“She’s human.”

“She’s more than that. A strong one.”

My fists curl.

He leans back on his palms like he’s lounging in the Council chamber. Like this isn’t sacred ground. Like this is just another playground for his games.

“You know what your problem is, Ezra?” he says slowly, like he’s been waiting to say this for centuries. “You think martyrdom makes you noble. You think pushing people away was some kind of grand sacrifice.”

I stay silent.

“You broke the bond. You burned her down. And you’re angry at me because she reached for the first person who didn’t flinch.”

“Shut up.”

“You don’t get to hate me for stepping in when you stepped out.”

“I said shut the fuck up.”

He leans forward now, eyes gleaming. “You want to hit me again? Go ahead. But it won’t change the fact that you broke her.”

My magic flares in my veins. The floor hums beneath me.

But I don’t move.

Because I know.

He’s right.

And he knows it too.

So he just chuckles. Stretches and tilts his head up at the thrones above like he’s addressing an audience.

“Whatever punishment they give us,” he murmurs, “won’t be worse than what you’ve already done to yourself.”

And with that, he lays back on the cold floor, hands behind his head like he’s at peace.

Like this is all a game.

I say nothing for a few minutes before letting out a sigh.

Then, I silently attempt to place my back on the hard ground when I feel another shift in the air.

Power.

Cold and ancient, sliding down my spine. 

Then he’s there.

The Twelfth Elder.

Back in the room like he never left it. Like this is where he lives, and we were just two pathetic interruptions in his eternity.

Again.

His wings are gone, hidden now. His robes shift like oil and silk and shadow, moving when he doesn’t.

And his face—

Cold with a little tiny amusement. He's enjoying this. 

Malik sits up a little straighter, and me?

I don’t move.

I just stare blankly because if he comes back, then this isn’t over.

Then maybe—just maybe—he did take her.

“First time up-phase,” he says flatly, his voice echoing in all directions at once.

He doesn’t explain what that means. He doesn’t even need to.

He raises his hand and snaps his fingers once.

Click.

My body seizes.

My vision splits in half.

The world tilts violently—

And then—

Nothing.

Just the taste of metal on my tongue.

And the sound of my own name—

Fading into black.