We waited in silence.
The spell-chaser hadn't arrived yet, so my friends and I sat together—maybe for the last time.
"If I don't make it through this," I said quietly, "divide my swords among yourselves."
Cast shook his head. "You'll make it. You're a survivor."
"Yeah," Jax added softly.
Dixon just nodded.
None of us said what we were really thinking.
The King returned briefly.
"The spell-chaser will arrive shortly."
Then he left.
Cast watched him go, eyes narrowed.
"He's up to something. I'm going to find out what."
Dixon grabbed his arm. "Don't. You'll get caught."
Cast pulled free.
"I'll be back."
He slipped out before any of us could stop him.
Minutes later, the King reappeared.
"She's here. Follow me to the lower level of the Worship House."
We descended into the depths of the castle. The room we entered was small—rocky floor, wooden walls, dim light. It felt more like a tomb than a place of healing.
The spell-chaser stood waiting.
He wore a cloak of shifting black mist, darkness clinging to him like smoke. When he turned, his face was barely visible beneath the hood.
"You must be the ones the King's been whispering about." His voice was smooth. Unsettling. "Come. Let's begin."
He gestured toward a stone slab in the center of the room.
"Remove your top. Lie down."
I hesitated.
But I didn't have a choice.
I complied.
The King's eyes swept the room.
"Where is the fourth one?"
Dixon didn't answer.
The King signaled a soldier. "Find him."
Then the ritual began.
The spell-chaser drew a blade across my chest—shallow, but enough to bleed. He collected the blood, spread it over my skin, traced patterns around me on the stone.
Then he raised a golden rod tipped with a diamond and spoke.
His words were sharp. Clear. Ancient.
"What is old and new must be balanced through separation. If it is separation—then give a replacement."
I opened my mouth to speak—
Too late.
The spell-chaser moved his hand.
My friends collapsed.
My vision blurred.
And just before I lost consciousness—
Cast came running down the stairs.
The King turned.
Drew his sword.
And drove it through Cast's chest.
I screamed.
Then everything went black.
When I woke, I was chained to a wall.
Jax and Dixon hung beside me—unconscious but alive.
And in front of us...
Cast.
His body lay on the stone floor. Motionless. Cold.
I stared at him.
Waiting for the rage. The fire. The explosion of hate that always followed.
But it didn't come.
I felt... hollow.
Weak.
Empty.
The spell-chaser stepped into view.
"I used a binding spell on those chains," he said, almost amused. "They don't just hold you in place—they suppress your abilities. Natural attacks won't break them."
I lifted my head slowly.
"When I get out," I said, voice low and venomous, "I will kill you. I advise you to run while you ca—"
Pain exploded through my body.
I screamed.
The spell-chaser tilted his head.
"He told you it would hurt." He glanced at Cast's body. "Sad, really. The King didn't mention that part, did he? And I didn't mention mine."
He crouched in front of me.
"I'm going to extract the magic. Then I'm going to kill your friends—right in front of you. And then..."
He smiled.
"I'll kill you."
Something snapped.
Not outside me.
Inside.
Rage punched through the hollow.
Hate wrapped around my heart.
Anger consumed everything else.
The fire didn't ask permission this time.
It just came.
The chains shattered.
My strength flooded back—stronger than before.
The spell-chaser stumbled backward, eyes wide, face frozen in terror.
I was already moving.
My hand closed around his throat.
I squeezed.
Blood sprayed.
His body went limp—then collapsed, head barely attached.
I dropped him.
Jax and Dixon stirred behind me, waking just in time to see what I'd done.
I turned to face them.
"It's okay," I said. "It's over. I'm in control now."
They looked past me.
At Cast.
They rushed to him. Checked for breath. For a pulse.
Nothing.
Dixon's hands shook.
Jax didn't cry. She just stared.
I felt the fire coil tighter inside me.
"The King killed him."
The words left my mouth like a death sentence.
My armor ignited.
Flames wrapped around my body—not wild, not chaotic. Controlled. Precise.
I drew the Blade of Fury.
The fire on the sword changed. It didn't just burn—it roared. Brighter. Hotter. Like the blade itself had evolved.
I vanished.
I reappeared in the throne room.
The King sat on his throne, surrounded by guards—dozens inside, more outside. Archers lined the balconies. Soldiers filled every corner.
He saw me.
His face went pale.
"Get Cast out," I said—not to him. To my friends, wherever they were. "Run for the carriage."
Behind me, I felt them move.
Guards broke off to follow.
I split.
Copies of me—five, ten, more—detached from my body and intercepted them. Screams echoed through the halls. Steel clashed. Bodies hit the floor.
The King raised his hand and dropped it.
An archer fired.
The arrow flew toward my chest—
A hand erupted from my body and caught it mid-air.
I crushed it.
The King's face twisted.
He signaled again.
His guards charged.
I let them come.
The first wave swung at me.
I vanished—reappeared above them—gripped my sword with both hands—
And dropped.
Fire exploded outward in every direction.
Soldiers screamed. Armor melted. Bodies collapsed.
By the time the flames died, the throne room was ash and silence.
The King had been thrown from his seat.
He crawled backward, gasping, until his back hit the wall.
I walked toward him slowly.
He had nowhere to go.
I reached out.
"Crown. Now."
His hands trembled as he removed it.
I took it. Tucked it at my side.
"I wanted you to die slowly," I said. "But you don't deserve to live any longer."
I drew the Katana.
One swing.
His head hit the floor.
I picked it up, drove it onto a spear, and planted it in the ground.
Then I walked out.
Outside, a crowd had gathered—citizens, servants, survivors.
I found someone near the front.
Handed them the crown.
Then I turned and walked to my friends.
They stood by the carriage, Cast's body laid carefully inside.
"Let's go," I said.
Dixon looked at me. "...Are you okay?"
"I've never felt better." I climbed in. "Let's move before more guards arrive."
Jax's voice was quiet. "What do we do about Cast?"
I didn't hesitate.
"We bury him where we met. At the falls."
The ride was long.
No one spoke.
We mourned in silence—each of us carrying the weight differently.
When we finally reached the falls, we buried him beneath the trees, where the water sang and the world felt still.
I stood over his grave and remembered something I'd heard once.
A quote. A warning. A truth.
"Some, more than others, are sacrificed for the great or good. But some are sacrificed for the great or evil."
I didn't know which one Cast had died for.
But I knew one thing.
I wouldn't let it be for nothing.