The chapel still reeked of blood and ash.
I stood frozen, chest heaving, as the last of the rogue's body crumbled into gray dust. His voice lingered, heavier than the silence he left behind. When the shadow girl breaks her chains, Kaylan will fall first.
The words coiled inside me like a curse.
Kaylan wrenched her blades free from the stone, flicking blood from their edges. Her silver hair clung to her face, damp with sweat and streaked crimson. "Pathetic traitor," she spat, grinding her boot into the ash. "He deserved worse."
I wanted to ask her — about Marcus, about loyalty, about the chains — but her expression silenced me. Her storm-gray eyes burned too bright, too cold.
We turned to leave.
The chapel groaned around us, wind slithering through broken beams. My shadows twitched restlessly against my skin, tugging, warning. I thought it was exhaustion until the floor beneath us creaked louder than it should have.
Kaylan's hand darted up, signaling stillness.
The silence stretched.
Then a new laugh scraped from the darkness.
From the shattered bell tower above, another figure dropped into the moonlight.
Not gaunt like the first. This one was taller, broader, armor patchworked from scavenged steel, fangs bared in a grin too wide. His eyes gleamed with feral fire.
"Brothers should never die alone," he crooned.
Kaylan swore under her breath. "Another rat."
The second rogue's boots crunched through rubble as he stepped closer, claws dragging along the wall, leaving trails of sparks. "Marcus always sends his pets in pairs, doesn't he? One to kill. One to watch. One to learn." His gaze found me, lingering. "And what are you, little shadow? Dog or chain-breaker?"
My throat tightened.
Kaylan stepped between us, blades raised. "She's nothing. You'll die like the other."
The rogue's grin widened. "Nothing?" His laughter cracked the air. "No, no… she's the one he's grooming. The one even Seraphina whispers about."
The name landed like a knife.
"Seraphina," I breathed, before I could stop myself.
Kaylan stiffened.
The rogue saw the flicker of recognition — and seized it. His voice dropped, guttural, reverent. "The true queen in the dark. Not Marcus, not your Crimson Court. He pretends at empire, but he fears her. They all do."
Kaylan struck before he could say more.
The chapel roared back to violence.
The rogue fought nothing like the first. He was no frenzied beast. His movements were precise, deliberate, every strike aimed to cripple, not kill. Kaylan's blades clashed against claws that gleamed sharper than steel.
The sound was deafening — screech, clang, crash. Shards of broken glass rained from the ruined windows, moonlight scattering across the floor in fractured prisms.
I ducked as the rogue hurled a pew across the chapel, wood exploding against the far wall. Dust blinded me, my shadows writhing in agitation.
Kaylan drove forward with a snarl, daggers carving twin arcs toward his chest. He caught her wrists mid-strike, muscles bulging, and forced her down to her knees. She roared, headbutted him, tried to wrench free — but he only laughed, blood streaking down his cheek.
"She's coming," he whispered, though his eyes stayed on me. "Seraphina rises. You can feel it, can't you? In the marrow of your shadows."
I shook my head, but his words wormed deeper, tugging at something raw inside me. The shadows did stir, restless, agitated in ways I couldn't name.
Kaylan twisted suddenly, slamming her boot into his knee. Bone cracked. He staggered, grip loosening, and she slashed across his throat in a spray of ichor.
But he didn't fall. Not yet.
He lunged toward me, blood gurgling from his neck. "Find her," he rasped. His claws grazed my collar, tearing leather, grazing skin. "She is truth. She is power. She is—"
Kaylan's blades crossed, scissoring through his chest.
The rogue froze. His eyes met mine one last time, burning with something closer to awe than fear. Then his body collapsed into ash, his voice scattering with it.
"—the queen in the dark."
The chapel went silent again.
My chest heaved. My skin burned where his claws had touched me, as if the words themselves had left a scar.
Kaylan spat on the ashes. "Raving filth. Seraphina's nothing but a ghost story they feed to weaklings."
But her voice was too sharp. Too quick.
I met her gaze. "You've heard the name."
Her jaw clenched.
"She's nothing," Kaylan repeated. "Forget it."
She sheathed her blades, turning toward the doorway, but I didn't move. My shadows curled tight around me, whispering in ways I didn't understand.
Nothing.
No. Ghosts don't make rogues throw themselves on daggers just to speak a name. Ghosts don't linger like fire in the marrow.
Something was moving in the dark. And Marcus wasn't the only one pulling chains.
The walk back to the fortress was a fog. Kaylan stalked ahead, every step sharp, her silence louder than words.
I followed, though my thoughts were far behind us, tangled in the rogue's dying whisper.
Seraphina.
The name tasted like blood and stormlight.
I didn't know her face. I didn't know her voice. But the shadows in me shivered at the sound, as if they did.
And for the first time since Marcus dragged me into his court, I realized something terrifying.
The Crimson Court wasn't the only empire in the dark.
It wasn't even the strongest.