Page 115 of The Blood Rites

My pulse stumbles.

She writes one more sentence:

You are already in the current.

I blink rapidly, my hands shaking.

Morwen offers me a small, crooked smile. It feels like her way of saying she understands.

I stand, not sure what else to say.

Callen catches my sleeve. “Is Marissa okay?”

“You should ask her yourself,” I say.

I nod to Morwen. “Thank you.”

I leave them to their quiet and wander the halls. The words stick with me, looping in my mind.

The moment before you fall in love. Not love itself.

When you can’t escape.

It sounds so familiar it scares me.

Because part of me doesn’t want to escape.

The Embrace has become a maze of echoes. Every footfall, every voice, every restless movement resonates through its stone corridors and empty chambers. When I go looking for Alaris, I find him exactly where I expect: in the Dome, the largest, most hollow place of all.

He’s alone—he has no one left. His uniform is unbuttoned, sweat blooming dark in all the creases. The air is so full of Mana that I can taste it before I see him.

He’s in the centre, arms raised, channelling wind through his bones with enough force to rattle the lights lining the ceiling. He isn’t just moving the air, though. He’s weaponising it. Each exhale is a wave that smashes benches into walls. Every flick of his wrist splinters some wooden object around him. A weapons rack bursts apart, filling the air with dust.

He doesn’t see me at first, or pretends not to. I cough so he can’t ignore me.

He whirls, hair plastered to his face, eyes fury-bright. “Luceris,” he says, like an accusation. “Come to watch?”

His voice is hoarse. He doesn’t look like he’s rested since the trial ended. Maybe he hasn’t.

“You’re going to destroy everything in here,” I say, too soft. I have to repeat it, louder, to be heard over the wind.

He grins wide, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “That’s the point,” he says. “If I stop breaking stuff, then I’ll start thinking, and I don’t want to think about anything. Plus, she’ll just make more, you know. None of this is real.”

I nod, though I’m not sure I agree. “You’re—” I almost say scaring me, but that’s not helpful. “You’re much stronger than I realised,” I settle for, and it’s true.

He laughs, proud and hateful all at once. “I was just fucking around before, I was here on a gamble you see. And now I’m the only one left.” He exhales sharply, like something inside him is trying to break out. “I should have tried harder with Fen.”

I hesitate. There is no comfort I can offer him about Fen. I’ve pushed it to the back of my mind because I have to. I can’t keep picturing Fen’s twisted corpse.

“I got the bastard in the end, though,” he says, triumphant, but edged with spite.

I stare at him, not understanding.

“Didn’t your Shadow friends tell you?” he asks.

I shake my head.

His grin dies and he stares at me, unblinking. “I killed him. Rask, I mean.” He flexes his fingers, as if reliving the sensation. “I saw Kael on the way—he looked like shit. Rask was still alive when I got there, but barely. Nyxen was in a far worse state than Vaelis let on. His ribs had been crushed, and his face was so swollen he could barely see. If Vaelis hadn't pulled him off, Nyxen would be dead.”