The city was restless, alive with murmurs of danger and the distant echo of sirens. Luca and Grace moved through the abandoned district, every shadow a potential threat, every streetlamp a spotlight for lurking enemies. The previous encounter with Ravyn had left scars, not only in their bodies but in their minds. They both knew the calm wouldn’t last.“Ravyn isn’t just coming back,” Grace whispered, her voice low, eyes scanning the alleyways. “She’s bringing everything she has. And she won’t hesitate to take us down.”Luca’s fingers brushed the grip of his weapon, the beast inside him coiling, eager. “Then we make sure she regrets it,” he growled, voice steady but dark, the curse thrumming beneath his skin like a living thing. Every heartbeat was a countdown, every shadow a whisper of what was to come.They turned a corner, and the first signs of the ambush appeared. Silhouettes moved with silent precision, trained killers, shadows within shadows, eyes gleaming in the dim light. Ravyn

The city hummed with an uneasy silence, the smoke from the docks long gone but its memory lingering in every alley and crumbling street corner. Luca’s body ached, his muscles sore from the relentless nights of battle, yet the curse simmered beneath his skin, restless and hungry. Every heartbeat carried its whisper, demanding release, demanding chaos. He had learned restraint, but for how long?Grace walked beside him, blades sheathed, eyes scanning every shadow. There was a new tension between them, unspoken but heavy, like a storm ready to break. Luca’s trust had grown, fragile but real, yet he sensed the edges fraying. The beast inside him was no longer the only danger; the world outside whispered of secrets and betrayals still hidden.“We should lay low,” Grace said quietly, her voice tight with control. “Emilio’s remnants are still out there, and I can feel them watching.”Luca nodded, jaw clenched. “We’ve survived worse. But something’s off. I can feel it in the air.”Their steps

The city was restless, streets slick with rain reflecting neon glints. The echoes of Leo’s smirk from last night lingered in Luca’s mind, a bitter taste of betrayal that no fire or blood could burn away. Every step he took beside Grace was careful, deliberate, muscles taut, senses sharpened. The curse beneath his skin thrummed, a restrained roar, hungry, impatient, as if it could sense the danger before he did.Grace moved silently beside him, blades sheathed but ready, eyes scanning every shadow, every flicker of movement. The tension between them wasn’t just from the city, it was from the knowledge that someone they had trusted had turned, someone who knew them, knew their strengths, their weaknesses, their instincts.“Something’s off,” Grace murmured, her voice barely above the sound of their footsteps. “It’s too quiet.”“Too quiet is usually the worst kind,” Luca replied, jaw tight, eyes flicking from alley to alley. His fingers brushed the hilt of his weapon, feeling the familiar

The messenger’s words still rang in my skull long after his body hit the stone floor. He lay there, bleeding and broken, one arm stretched toward me as if begging me to fix the world with my hands alone.Leo had taken the southern stronghold.The enemy marched from the north.Two fronts. Two knives. Both pointed at me.The council erupted around me, shouts, demands, half baked strategies hurled like stones. But all of it blurred into noise. My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. For years, I’d prepared for war, for betrayal, for the day enemies would come for me with fire and steel. But not for this. Not for my own brother to be the one holding the blade.Grace cut through the chaos like a blade of her own.“Silence!” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to quiet even the loudest.The chamber stilled. I lifted my head. Grace stood firm beside me, eyes blazing. She was my anchor, the only thing keeping me from drowning.“Luca,” she said softly, but not weakly. “We need clarity

The night was too quiet.The battlefield had been cleared, the bodies burned or buried, but the silence that followed victory felt heavier than defeat. Luca sat alone at the edge of the camp, the scorched scrap of cloth clutched in his hand. He had turned it over a hundred times, searching for some trace of mistake, some proof that the burned sigil wasn’t Leo’s. But there was no mistake.The blood was his brother’s. And the fire belonged to him now.Behind him, the camp stirred with unease. Voices carried in the darkness, soldiers whispering of their burned homes, their murdered families, the south consumed by Leo’s flames while they fought in the north. Some muttered doubts, others curses. A few spat Luca’s name like it was ash in their mouths.Grace approached, her footsteps soft but deliberate. She didn’t speak at first, just sat beside him, her gaze fixed on the black horizon.“You can hear them,” she said at last.He didn’t look up. “They blame me.”“They want someone to blame.”