KAEL POV
My shadows slammed into Thorne's combat barrier like a tsunami hitting a wall.
He staggered but held. A-rank power flaring golden around him.
"Stop!" Thorne shouted. "I didn't come here to fight! I came for Zariah!"
"She's not yours anymore." My voice was death itself. "She was never yours."
Behind Thorne, Seraphine clutched his arm. Her eyes went wide when she saw Zariah standing beside me.
"Sister," Seraphine breathed. "You're alive. Thank God—"
"Don't." Zariah's voice cut like a knife. "Don't you dare pretend you're happy to see me."
"We thought you were dead!" Thorne took a step forward. My zombies blocked his path, moaning threats. "When we got out of the building, we looked for you. We searched—"
"Liar." The word came out flat. Cold. "You locked the door. You ran. You left me for the monsters."
"I was trying to save Seraphine—"
"Instead of your fiancée." Zariah's hands clenched into fists. The black veins on her arms pulsed brighter. "Tell me, Thorne. When did you stop looking? How long did you search before you decided I was dead and moved on?"
Silence.
Thorne's face said everything. He hadn't looked at all.
"That's what I thought." Zariah's voice shook but didn't break. "You got what you wanted. She's alive. I'm supposed to be dead. So why are you here?"
"Because I heard rumors." Thorne's expression shifted. Became calculating. "About a healer who can cure infection. Who reverses the transformation. The Silver Healer." His eyes focused on her black veins. "It's you, isn't it? You're the cure."
"Get out," I said quietly. "Now. Before I kill you where you stand."
"I'm not here to fight." Thorne raised his hands. "I'm here to make an offer. Zariah, come to Haven City. We have resources. Protection. Thousands of survivors who need your help. You could save so many people—"
"Under your control." Zariah's laugh was bitter. "You want to own the cure. Own me. Just like you always tried to own everything in my life."
"That's not fair—"
"You pushed me into zombies!" Her voice broke. "You chose her over me! And now you want me to forgive that? To come back and play house while you use my power to build your little empire?"
Thorne flinched. Good. He should hurt.
"Zariah, please." Seraphine stepped forward, tears streaming. "I know I made mistakes. I know I hurt you. But we're family. Sisters. We can fix this—"
"You're not my sister." Zariah's words were ice. "My sister died the day you crawled into my fiancé's bed. You're just a stranger wearing her face."
Seraphine's sobs grew louder. Thorne pulled her close, his expression hardening.
"Fine," he said coldly. "I tried diplomacy. But Haven City needs that cure. And we will have it. One way or another."
"Is that a threat?" My shadows coiled tighter, ready to strike.
"It's a promise." Thorne's golden power flared. "You can't protect her forever, Necromancer. Eventually you'll slip. And when you do, we'll be there."
He turned and walked away, Seraphine clinging to him. His soldiers retreated with them.
But I saw his face as he left. Saw the cold calculation in his eyes.
He wasn't giving up. He was planning.
"He'll be back," Lysander said quietly. "With more soldiers. Better weapons."
"Let him come." I looked at Zariah. She was shaking, her face pale. "Are you—"
She collapsed.
I caught her before she hit the ground, her body limp in my arms.
"What happened?" Raven rushed over. "Did he hurt her?"
"No. The black veins." I looked at Zariah's arms. They'd spread further during the confrontation. Reaching her shoulders now. "The life force drain. It's accelerating."
"Get her inside," Lysander commanded. "Now."
I laid Zariah on her bed while Lysander examined her. Raven paced anxiously.
"Her vitals are weak," Lysander said grimly. "Heart rate too slow. Blood pressure dropping. Whatever that cure does, it's literally eating her alive."
"Can we stop it?" I demanded.
"I'm a strategist, not a doctor." He looked at me. "You need to decide, Kael. Is she worth the trouble? Because Thorne's right. Protecting her puts a target on all of us."
"She stays."
"Even if it kills you?"
"Even then."
Lysander studied me for a long moment. "You care about her. Actually care. I haven't seen you care about anything since—"
"Don't." I cut him off. Since my sister. Since I killed her. Since I became this.
"She's changing you," Lysander said quietly. "Making you human again."
"I'm still human."
"Are you? Because the man I've been following for six months is cold. Efficient. Treats people like chess pieces." He nodded at Zariah. "But her? You carried her gently. Protected her personally. Felt rage when someone hurt her."
I didn't have an answer.
Because he was right.
Zariah made me feel things I'd buried. Made me remember what it was like to care whether someone lived or died.
And that terrified me more than any zombie horde.
"She needs rest," Lysander finally said. "And food. Real food, not scavenged garbage. Her body's burning through energy too fast."
"I'll get it," Raven volunteered. "I know a merchant who owes me a favor."
She left. Lysander followed.
I stayed.
Zariah's eyes moved under her closed lids. Dreaming again. Or trapped in nightmares.
I reached out without thinking, my hand hovering over her forehead.
My shadows didn't recoil this time. They stayed calm, like even they recognized she wasn't a threat.
My fingers touched her skin.
Warm. Alive. Completely opposite to my ice-cold death magic.
And nothing happened.
No power surge. No system warning. No death magic trying to activate.
She was immune. Completely immune to what I was.
I pulled my hand back, shocked.
Everything I touched died eventually. Plants withered. Animals fled. Even other awakeners felt uncomfortable around me, their instincts screaming danger.
But not her.
She looked at me like I was just a man. Not a monster. Not the Death King.
Just Kael.
My system pulsed.
[ANOMALY STATUS UPDATE]
[ZARIAH LOVELACE: LIFE FORCE 85%]
[DETERIORATION RATE: ACCELERATING]
[CAUSE: EMOTIONAL STRESS TRIGGERS SYSTEM DRAIN]
[RECOMMENDATION: KEEP SUBJECT CALM AND PROTECTED]
Emotional stress. Seeing Thorne had hurt her so badly it drained her life force.
I needed to keep her away from him. Away from anyone who could hurt her.
A knock on the door. One of my survivors—a middle-aged woman with scared eyes.
"Sir? The merchant we rescued yesterday. He's getting worse. The bite is spreading. He's begging..." She swallowed hard. "He's begging us to kill him before he turns."
I looked at Zariah. Still unconscious. Still dying slowly.
"Bring him here," I said.
"But the healer needs rest—"
"I said bring him."
Twenty minutes later, a man lay on the floor of Zariah's room. His skin was turning gray. The bite on his shoulder was festering, spreading infection through his veins.
He looked at me with clear eyes. Still human. For now.
"Please," he whispered. "I have a daughter. Eight years old. Don't let her see me turn into one of those things. Just... make it quick."
My knife was already in my hand.
Then Zariah's voice, weak but firm: "Don't."
I turned. She was sitting up, her violet eyes focused on the merchant.
"You should be resting," I said.
"And he should be living." She slid off the bed, stumbling. I caught her arm.
"You're too weak—"
"I'm the cure." She pulled away from me, kneeling beside the merchant. "And he needs me."
"Zariah, every cure drains you. You're already at eighty-five percent. If you keep this up—"
"Then I keep this up." She placed her hands on the bite wound.
Her system flared. Golden light mixed with those black veins. The merchant gasped as the infection reversed, his gray skin returning to normal color.
The bite closed. Healed completely.
But Zariah's black veins spread further. Up her neck now. Reaching toward her jaw.
Blood trickled from her nose.
She swayed.
I caught her before she collapsed, pulling her against my chest. Her body was ice cold now, temperature dropping from the life force drain.
"Stubborn," I muttered.
"Alive," she whispered back. Then her eyes rolled back and she went limp.
The merchant stared at his healed shoulder, tears streaming down his face. "She saved me. She actually saved me."
"Get out," I told him. "And tell everyone what she did. Tell them the Silver Healer is real. And she's under my protection."
He scrambled away.
I looked down at Zariah in my arms. Her face was pale. The black veins pulsed weakly.
[LIFE FORCE: 79%]
Six percent. She'd lost six percent to save one man.
At this rate, she had maybe two weeks. Maybe less.
And she'd keep healing people anyway, because that's who she was. Selfless. Stubborn. Unwilling to let people die even if it killed her.
I needed to stop her. Ration her healing. Force her to rest.
But how did you cage someone who'd rather die than stop helping?
My hand touched her face again, brushing hair from her forehead.
My death magic stayed dormant. Quiet. Peaceful around her.
"What are you doing to me?" I whispered.
Her eyes fluttered open. Just barely. Violet meeting silver.
"Saving you too," she breathed. "Whether you know it or not."
Then she was out again.
I carried her to bed, pulling the blanket over her.
My system pulsed with new information.
[CRITICAL DISCOVERY]
[ZARIAH LOVELACE'S LIFE FORCE CAN BE STABILIZED]
[METHOD: DEATH ENERGY TRANSFER]
[USER CAN DONATE POWER TO SUSTAIN SUBJECT]
[WARNING: UNPRECEDENTED. RESULTS UNKNOWN]
I could save her. Give her my death energy to balance her life force.
Opposite powers creating equilibrium.
But the warning flashed again: RESULTS UNKNOWN.
It could kill us both. Could bind us together. Could change us in ways we couldn't predict.
Or it could save her life.
A door slammed open downstairs. Raven's voice screamed up: "KAEL! WE HAVE A PROBLEM!"
I ran.
Found Raven in the entry, her face pale. She held a severed hand. Still fresh. Still bleeding.
With a note tied to the wrist.
I grabbed it, reading the scrawled message:
THE SILVER HEALER FOR THE HOSTAGES. YOU HAVE 24 HOURS. -TB
Thorne Beckett.
"What hostages?" I demanded.
Raven's voice broke. "The merchant she just saved. And his eight-year-old daughter. They were taken from the gate ten minutes ago."
My shadows exploded outward, cracking the walls.
Thorne had just declared war.
And he'd made it personal.