“We can’t continue like this,” Corvin pointed out. “If we do, we’ll lose.”“I have an idea,” Scott said as he slammed his staff down hard, both hands gripping it as shadows poured outward in a wide, violent ring. They sank into the soil like ink into cloth, crawling beneath the surface, thickening, hardening.The earth screamed.The demons hissed as they tried to sink back into the ground—and failed.Their bodies jolted as if they’d struck stone. One of them snarled, claws tearing uselessly at the soil as shadow wrapped around its legs and ankles, yanking it back up.“Let’s try this again, shall we?” Scott smirked. The demons straightened, forced into the open, four eyes burning as they turned fully toward the hunters. They spread out, circling, blades raised.Corvin spat blood onto the grass and reset his stance.The demons came all at once.Steel rang.Lumi met the first demon head-on, short sword flashing as he parried two blades at once, the force of the impact rattling his bones

Scott and Corvin moved as one.Years of fighting together had carved rhythm into their bones—Scott’s staff sweeping wide, shadows snapping and coiling, Corvin blurring in and out of range with twin daggers flashing silver.They struck in tandem.Distract.Pin.Punish.It still wasn’t enough.A demon took Scott’s staff head-on, four arms catching it mid-swing. Another slammed into Corvin from the side, claws digging into his ribs as he was hurled across the grass.Scott twisted, shadows lashing out——and a kick caught him square in the chest.He flew.His back slammed into a tree with a dull, cracking impact that drove the breath from his lungs. Bark splintered behind him as he slid down, gasping, vision blurring.“Damn it—”Corvin barely had time to regain his footing before another demon tackled him low, driving him into the ground. Dirt exploded upward as they rolled, Corvin slashing wildly, blade biting—but the wound sealed almost instantly.A shadow fell over him.Another demon dr

The hall was older than the city.Stone pillars rose into shadow, etched with sigils worn smooth by time and use. The air smelled of incense and cold iron, the kind used not to honour—but to restrain.Lumi stood alone at the centre.No chains.No bindings.That made it worse.The Patriarch sat elevated at the far end, robes heavy, expression carved from something between disappointment and calculation. To either side of him sat five hunters of rank—men and women whose names carried weight, whose decisions shaped doctrine.Scott stood behind them.Cleodora stood beside him.Lumi did not look at either of them.“Lumi Calder,” the Patriarch said, voice calm, resonant. “You are here to answer for the death of a civilian.”The word civilian struck harder than human ever could.“Do you understand why this council has been convened?” the Patriarch asked.Lumi nodded once.“Yes.”“Do you understand the implication of your actions?”Silence.The Patriarch waited.A long moment passed.“Yes,” L

The servants did not move.They stood just inside the threshold, heads bowed, hands folded neatly at their waists. The wards lining the chamber pulsed softly, old and heavy, pressing against the skin like a held breath.Lumi watched them.Waited.“Well?” he asked mildly.Neither of them answered.One of them—older, shoulders stiff with habit rather than strength—cleared his throat. “We… cannot,” he said at last. “Lay a hand on a child of the Patriarch.”Lumi’s lips curved.Not wide.Not cruel.Just enough.“But you did last time,” he said. “You didn’t hesitate then.”The younger servant flinched.The older one’s jaw tightened. “That was different.”“Oh?” Lumi tilted his head. “How so?”Silence.Then, carefully: “We were instructed to demonstrate the Calder sigil. Its function. Its… limits.” He bowed lower. “No disrespect was intended.”Lumi laughed softly.It startled them both.“You insulted me. Knocked me to the ground. Laughed at me for training.”He took a step closer.“That didn’

They were walking just outside the Blackwell estate when Marionette spoke.The wards hummed faintly at the perimeter, old magic layered carefully into stone and air. Beyond them, the night market flickered to life—lanterns swaying, voices rising and falling, the smell of roasted meat curling into the dark.“You know,” Marionette said lightly, adjusting the shawl at her shoulders, “you never told me what you actually wanted to use those demon parts I gave you for.”Scott didn’t slow.“What do you mean? I did,” he replied. “I told you. Less privileged hunters. Those who can’t afford proper gear.”Marionette smiled.A small one.A knowing one.“I’m a master of illusions,” she said. “A lie is basically an illusion.”Scott glanced at her. “I don’t understand how a lie is an illusion, but go on…”“What I’m trying to say,” Marionette continued calmly, “is that I knew you were lying.”Scott stopped walking.Turned.“So you know what I was trying to do?” he asked.Marionette studied his face f