The summons came at dusk.
The cell door clanged open, torchlight spilling across the floor, and Kaylan stood there like a blade wrapped in steel. Her silver-gray hair was tied back, her armor dark and gleaming. No words, no sneer — just a flick of her fingers.
Up.
I rose, though my body still ached from trial and torment. The shadows stirred inside me, restless, twitching against my ribs.
Chains were removed, replaced with leather bindings. The silver collar stayed. A leash in all but name.
"Walk," Kaylan ordered.
I followed, every step echoing through the stone halls. The air grew colder the farther we climbed, until the dungeon stench gave way to the open night.
The sky stretched wide above, moon fat and heavy, clouds streaked crimson by the fires burning in the fortress courtyards. The Crimson Court moved like a machine here — soldiers drilling, thralls scrubbing blood from stone, banners dripping red. And above it all, Marcus's shadow sat upon the keep like a god who needed no altar.
We stopped before the grand gates.
Marcus waited there.
His cloak whispered against the stone, black as smoke. His presence was heavier than the night itself. When his gaze fell upon me, my shadows recoiled, as though bowing without permission.
"Aria," he said softly, my name turning to ash in his mouth. "Tonight you will prove your worth beyond survival. You will hunt."
Hunt.
The word curled through me like a blade.
Marcus lifted his hand. Between his fingers, a scrap of parchment, painted with blood sigils. "A rogue stalks the lowlands. One of ours. He betrayed the Crimson Court, feeding the hunters information."
Hunters. Humans. Their name was venom.
Kaylan stepped forward. "Allow me to put him down, my lord. She is not ready."
Marcus's smile was faint. "You will go with her." His eyes slid back to me. "I want to see if her shadows can bleed."
The parchment flared, dissolving into smoke. Images seared into my skull — a ruined chapel in the lowlands, its bell tower broken, stained with old ash.
The rogue's lair.
Marcus dismissed us with a flick of his hand.
Kaylan's jaw clenched, but she bowed. "As you command."
Her eyes cut to me like daggers. If she had her way, I would not return.
The journey was silent.
We moved fast, slipping through forests, over broken roads where weeds split the stone. Kaylan ran like a shadow herself, silent, tireless. I trailed behind, every step grinding bone against wound, but I refused to falter.
The world beyond the Court was raw — villages shuttered, doors nailed, people hiding behind prayers. The scent of fear was everywhere, thick as blood.
At last, the chapel rose before us.
Its spire lay in rubble, the walls gaping, stained glass shattered into fangs of color. Weeds climbed the steps, curling through the stone like veins. And there, faint but sharp, the scent of vampire. Rotten. Old blood turned sour.
Kaylan halted, raising a hand. Her storm-gray eyes glinted in the moonlight. "Stay behind me. Watch, learn. Do not interfere unless I command it."
Her tone left no room for argument.
But my shadows whispered otherwise. They tugged at me, restless, pulling toward the ruin as if they knew what waited.
We entered.
The air was thick with dust and decay. Moonlight spilled through holes in the roof, painting silver pools on the broken floor. Statues of saints lay toppled, faces eaten away.
A sound slithered from the dark — a chuckle, dry and sharp.
The rogue emerged from the shadows of the altar.
Tall, gaunt, his skin gray as old parchment. His eyes burned red, but madness flickered in them, thin and wild. His armor was ragged, dented, still stained with blood. He carried no blade. Only claws.
"Kaylan," he rasped, lips peeling back. "Did Marcus send his hound for me?"
Kaylan stepped forward, drawing her twin daggers. "Marcus sent his judgment."
His gaze flicked to me. He stilled. Then he laughed, a broken sound. "So it's true. The little shadow lives."
My blood froze. He knew me.
"Quiet," Kaylan snapped.
But the rogue ignored her, his wild eyes boring into mine. "Do you think Marcus spared you out of mercy, girl? He spares nothing. He's sharpening you for the blade. Just like he sharpened us. And when he's finished—" His grin cracked wide. "—he'll discard you like the rest."
Kaylan lunged first.
The chapel ignited with violence. Her daggers cut through the dust-choked air in arcs of silver, sharp enough to shear the moonlight itself. The rogue moved with a predator's madness, his claws carving through stone, sparks shrieking.
The first clash rang out like iron bells.
Clang!
Blade on claw. Strike and recoil. Kaylan drove forward, relentless, her boots skidding over broken tile. The rogue met her fury with frenzy, each swipe a hurricane of muscle and bone.
The ruined altar cracked beneath their weight. A toppled saint's statue split in two.
Kaylan spun, daggers weaving a brutal rhythm — throat, gut, heart — every strike a killing blow. The rogue was faster than his ragged body promised. He slid under her arm, raked claws across her pauldron, leaving three gouges that gleamed wet in the moonlight.
She hissed but did not falter. Her counterstrike drove him back into the pews, splinters exploding.
I pressed against the wall, heart pounding like a war drum. Their movements blurred, shadows crashing against shadows.
The rogue snarled, madness crackling in his voice. "You fight like Marcus's perfect hound, Kaylan. Loyal. Rabid. Blind."
Kaylan's eyes narrowed to slits. "And you fight like carrion, clinging to scraps."
They collided again — her blades flashing, his claws hammering. The air shuddered with each impact, dust raining from the rafters.
He seized her arm, twisted. Her dagger clattered across the stone, spinning away. With a guttural roar, he slammed her into the wall hard enough to split plaster. Cracks spiderwebbed outward.
Kaylan snarled, headbutted him, then buried her knee in his gut. As he staggered, she drove her remaining dagger into his thigh. Bone split. He howled, a sound like tearing metal.
But still he didn't fall.
His eyes flared, red drowning in wild light.
"Do you know what Marcus made us do, girl?" His voice was half aimed at me, half at the world. "He told us loyalty would earn us eternity. And when he was finished sharpening us, he sent us to die for him like dogs."
His words pulled at me — sharp, raw, dangerous — even as he hurled Kaylan across the room. She slammed into a pillar, coughed blood, wiped it from her lips with fury burning brighter than pain.
The rogue turned on me.
His claws tore through the air, and the shadows inside me reared. Instinct shrieked.
The world warped.
I was yanked sideways by my own darkness, reality blurring, tearing — then I stumbled out across the chapel floor, a dozen feet away, chest heaving. The shadows hissed, coiling off me like smoke ripped from fire.
The rogue's head snapped toward me. His grin split wide. "Yes. There it is. The old blood sings in you."
Kaylan was on him again in an instant, teeth bared, blade slicing across his ribs. Flesh split, spraying black ichor that burned the stone like acid.
He seized her by the throat, lifted her like a ragdoll, slammed her into the altar. Wood shattered beneath them.
She clawed at his grip, gagging, fury burning in her eyes.
I moved before thinking. Shadows lashed out from me, not smoke but tendrils — thin, whip-like coils that struck his arm. They didn't cut, but they staggered him, loosened his grip.
Kaylan drove her knee upward, breaking his jaw with a crunch. He reeled back, spitting blood, still laughing.
"Good," he rasped, teeth jagged and crimson. "Yes, let it answer you. That darkness is the only truth Marcus gave us."
Kaylan's roar silenced him. She carved a line across his chest, then plunged her blade into his shoulder.
He howled, twisting, claws slashing at her side. Blood streamed from her armor, glistening in the fractured light.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The fight was everywhere — shards of moonlight, the stench of blood, shadows writhing at my feet.
The rogue lunged again, this time toward me.
I barely managed to dodge, the world snapping sideways as Shadowstep pulled me through the air. I reappeared behind him, disoriented, dizzy, shadows clawing my skin like fire.
Kaylan didn't waste the opening. She slammed into him from behind, blades sinking deep, one in his side, the other spearing his neck.
He screamed, thrashing, claws carving trenches into the floor. His blood sizzled, the stench thick enough to choke.
Still, his voice broke through the carnage.
"You think Marcus spares you out of loyalty, Kaylan? No. You're just another chain. And when the shadow girl breaks hers—" His red eyes locked onto mine, even as ash began to eat his flesh. "—you'll be the first to fall."
Kaylan snarled, twisting her blades. His chest caved, his body convulsed — and then he collapsed, dissolving into ash that scattered across the chapel floor.
Kaylan stood over him, chest heaving, blades dripping. Then she turned on me.
Her eyes burned, sharper than her daggers. "Do not think that trick will save you again. Shadowstep won't make you stronger. It won't make you worthy. It only makes you dangerous."
I forced myself to meet her gaze. "Maybe dangerous is enough."
Her lip curled. For a heartbeat, she almost struck me. But then she turned, wiping her blades clean.
"We return to Marcus."
She didn't look back.
I followed, but the rogue's words echoed in my skull, clinging like smoke.
Chains. Blades. Shadows.
Marcus wanted me sharpened. Kaylan wanted me broken.
But the rogue had been right about one thing.
When chains break, something always falls.
And I was not going to be the one crushed.