At first, I didn't think much about her. Just another face. Just another task. I was told to observe her while Solomon dealt with Yona and I did. I watched. And the more I watched, the more I wondered. Why was Yona with someone like her—someone with no power, no presence? How could someone like her come to know Yona? But as I slowly unzipped myself from the disguise, her eyes stayed on me—sharp, suspicious. That wary caution, the way she held herself like a coiled predator—it drew me in.
The first time I encountered her, I hadn't gotten a good look. I didn't need to. I just hurled my spear, sure of my target because she was with Yona—and that was reason enough. But then she stepped onto my battlefield, and the air shifted. A rush of bloodlust flooded me the moment her feet touched the ground. It was intoxicating.
And when she turned my own spear against me, when that cold, sharp edge kissed my throat—I should have been furious. And I was. But beneath the rage, there was something else. That look in her eyes—steady, piercing—reached inside me and squeezed my heart until it stuttered. I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to. The suffocation was too thrilling.
I hadn't even realized how much until it was too late. She was dangerous. I could feel it. And gods, that made her beautiful.
The power she possessed—overwhelming, yet mana-less—wasn't entirely unfamiliar, but the way it wrapped around her, invisible and suffocating, made my blood hum.
I finally understood my feelings when I saw her dive—without hesitation—off the building to rescue Yona. She fell like a star, and when those crimson-red wings unfurled, I forgot how to stand. I knelt at the edge, staring down, and I knew. I had to have them. Those wings—those beautiful, ethereal wings—would be mine. I would earn them.
After the ritual ends, after Yona is fed to the Luminara Halcyon, Solomon and I will receive our reward. The endless flow of mana energy, the blessing of power. I will ascend. I will have wings as radiant and terrible as hers. And then—then she'll see me. She'll understand. She'll fall for me the way I fell for her.
She has to. She must.
***
"Huh?" Solomon's lip curled in a sneer as he glared at Zareth. "The hell did you just say?"
Before Zareth could even breathe, a brutal kick slammed into his stomach. The impact sent him sprawling, his vision swimming as bile rose in his throat. Solomon didn't wait. Another vicious kick landed, and Zareth whimpered, his body curling in on itself.
Disgust twisted Solomon's face. He stood over his younger brother like a predator savoring its prey.
This might be a chance, Yona thought desperately, her head throbbing and her vision blurring. She tried to take in her surroundings, but everything wavered. I feel so weak... She panted, her breath shallow and ragged. The tentacles binding her tightened, coiling around her belly, wrists, and ankles like iron chains. And then—another one snaked up her neck.
No... Her pulse spiked in terror. She struggled weakly, her movements sluggish, but it was too late. Solomon's head snapped toward her.
The anger in his eyes was cold and terrifying.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair with an air of exasperation. "You two... why do you always have to make things so difficult for your elder brother?" His voice softened, but the threat in his words was razor-sharp.
As he walked toward Yona, the book in his hand vanished, replaced by a dagger—beautiful, delicate, and deadly. The blade was carved like a feather, its intricate patterns forming wings, faces, and crosses. It was exquisite—and terrifying.
Solomon knelt before her, a slow grin spreading across his face.
"You know what this is?" His voice was light, playful, but his eyes glinted with something far more dangerous.
Yona didn't answer. She couldn't. The tentacle around her neck remained loose, but the pressure threatened to increase at any moment.
Solomon tilted his head, as if disappointed. Then, with deliberate slowness, he pushed the tentacle aside with the tip of the dagger. The cold blade kissed her throat, sliding vertically with just enough pressure to draw blood.
Yona flinched, her breath hitching, but she didn't cry out. The pain burned, sharp and insistent—but not enough to break her.
When the dagger reached her collarbone, Solomon withdrew it. Blood dripped from its edge, a thin crimson line trailing down her neck.
But the wound didn't heal.
Realization crashed over her like ice water. Yona's eyes widened, her breath quickening in panic.
Solomon smiled—a soft, almost affectionate expression that made her stomach twist. Slowly, he licked the blood from the blade.
"What's wrong, dear sister?" His voice was gentle, his hand cupping her cheek with a mockery of tenderness. She flinched, trembling under his touch. "Not regenerating, are you?"
He stood, his grin widening. "This weapon was made just for you. Forged with the magic of the flummox, crafted by Skirmish sorcerers... This dagger—" He raised it reverently. "—can even kill the Ashen Heralds."
The Luminara itself? Yona's heart pounded painfully. Fear coiled tight in her chest. There was no escape. No hope. Tears pricked her eyes as despair took hold.
"No..." she whispered, but the word barely escaped her lips.
"Let's begin the sacrifice, shall we?" Solomon's voice rang out, triumphant.
Zareth stirred, his head still spinning, but his gaze dragged toward them.
"Oh, Luminara," Solomon chanted, his voice filled with devotion, "we prepare this offering in your name."
He raised the dagger high above his head, eyes closing as if in prayer. "Farewell, sister."
The blade descended.
No! Yona's mind screamed.
But the strike never landed.
A warm drop hit her forehead. Blood.
But it wasn't hers. And it wasn't Solomon's.
A shadow fell over her. A figure stood between them, back turned to Yona, hand gripping the dagger's blade. Blood ran freely from the wound in their palm, but the grip never faltered.
"Kaia..." Yona's voice cracked in disbelief.
Solomon's eyes narrowed, his irritation evident.
But Kaia only smiled—a slow, unsettling grin. Her eyes gleamed red, her expression wild and dangerous.
"Calm down, birdie," she cooed, leaning in close to Solomon. "Aren't you a little too eager?"
On the sidelines, Zareth's lips curved into a faint, almost delirious smile.
She's finally here... he thought, his vision swimming. My clues worked.