Page 34 of The Blood Rites

Standing inside the Mother Shard itself, surrounded by Offerings trained to kill, I no longer know whether my Mana will answer me obediently when I finally call for it—

—or whether it will consume everything around me instead.

We break after some time, though the restless tension inside the Dome never truly settles. My attention keeps drifting back to Kael.

He spars with the other two Shadowborn at the centre of the room, though I still cannot tell which one is Nyxen and which is Vaelis. The three of them move with an ease that borders on unsettling familiarity, circling each other in slow, fluid arcs that feel more like a dance than combat. Every strike is met with another already waiting for it. Every movement answered before it fully forms.

They know each other well, but even among them, Kael moves differently.

There is something almost elegant in the way he fights, despite the brutality beneath it. He steps lightly, economical in every motion, dark clothes shifting around him like smoke as he ducks beneath a blade and counters in the same breath. Watching him feels frightening in a way I cannot properly explain. Like staring too long at a blade levelled at your face.

The other two press him hard, bolts of shadow cracking through the air around them, dark and fast enough that my eyes struggle to follow. One misses Kael’s head by barely an inch. He only grins at the near miss, flashing white teeth before launching himself forward again.

They are performing. Not openly. Certainly not theatrically. But everyone in the Dome is watching them while pretending not to.

I realise, uneasily, that I am doing the same.

One of the Shadowborn finally slips past Kael’s guard. The pommel of his sword cracks hard against Kael’s jaw and the sound echoes across the Dome—the sickening crunch of bone.

Kael stumbles sideways, catching himself against the impact, one hand flying to his face as blood spills bright between his fingers.

My stomach drops. That hit should have put him on the floor. Instead, he straightens almost immediately. Too quickly. I am already moving before I understand why.

Somewhere behind me, Marissa says my name, but it barely registers. The entire world narrows to Kael standing across the Dome with blood running down his mouth.

My pulse kicks violently against my ribs as Mana stirs low in my body in sudden answer.

A sharp pop cuts through the Dome, like wood splitting down the middle.

I stop dead as Kael’s jaw shifts grotesquely back into place. Skin ripples faintly along his cheek as bone knits itself together beneath it, the injury disappearing in seconds.

A chill crawls down my spine.

Kael slowly lifts his head, black flooding his eyes.

Not the iris.

Everything.

The colour spreads outwards until no white remains at all, his gaze turning utterly inhuman. He bares his teeth slightly, chest heaving once, and something changes in the air around him so suddenly that the entire room seems to tense in response.

The Shadowborn who struck him takes a stumbling step backwards.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Kael, it was an accident.”

“Spectacular, Nyxen,” the other snaps.

Kael doesn’t answer.

His body shudders once, sudden and violent, muscles in his neck tightening hard enough to stand out beneath his skin. Shadows writhe around his fingers like living things searching for purchase.

He snarls and the sound barely resembles anything human.

Conversation dies instantly across the Dome.

The Overseers descend at once, drifting silently towards the Shadowborn trio as the temperature plummets around us. Their humming swells louder, voices layering together in strange reverence.

Bright Mother, see us. Bright Mother, save us.