-Rivulet-

  Then he felt it—a cold pinch at the back of his neck.

  I rested my blade against his brain stem.

  “Throw the sword aside and drop to your knees.”

  Ruik obeyed, the weapon clattering away as blood flung from his right hand, scattering red through the air. I wrapped my left arm around his neck and sheathed my sword in the same breath.

  My breath lingered cold against his skin as I inhaled slowly.

  “Ruik—”

  He drove his fist upward toward my head.

  I caught his wrist as if it weighed nothing. My grip closed like iron, cold and absolute.

  He didn’t notice. Blood from his hand splattered my face—warm, vivid—some of it touching my lips.

  I licked it instinctively.

  The taste struck me like lightning.

  I jolted backward, convulsions shuddering through my body as I fell to one knee, breath hitching.

  “Could it have been?” I whispered.

  My hood had fallen. Moonlight caught in my silk-black hair, loose curls brushing my chest. My eyes—blue, no longer glowing—remained locked on him. Pale, iridescent skin. Frost-pale lips. A tear slipped free before I could stop it.

  Ruik didn’t blink.

  “I saw her,” I murmured, voice distant, unmoored. “The Mountain’s Shadow. The Blessed Mother.”

  I rose slowly, scanning the clearing as if the night itself had turned hostile. “But after I looked upon her… betrayal filled me. Then nothing. Only darkness.”

  He bound his wounded hand, gaze finally breaking from me, though tension still coiled in his frame.

  “I’ve tasted the blood of many,” I said, my voice unsteady despite myself. “None carried visions. Yet yours hints at something greater. Something the Veil does not know you possess… or perhaps fears.”

  He reached for Drazan’s sword.

  “I care not for your visions,” he said. “Your beauty is soured by your fangs.”

  “You misunderst—”

  He lunged.

  I moved without thought. My blade flashed free as I parried, each of his strikes glancing off with ease, my body a blur of instinct and precision.

  His grief fueled him, anger stripping away restraint, making him predictable.

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  At first.

  I circled his wild swings, refusing to strike, weaving like a serpent through a lion’s pounce. I shaped his steps, guided his momentum—until something shifted.

  Heat.

  Not from exertion.

  From him.

  Warmth radiated from his skin, rising too fast, too sharp. Steam curled faintly from his forearms, sweat seeming to boil as the sword grew lighter in his grip.

  The air pulsed.

  His strikes sharpened—faster, heavier. I dodged more than parried now, tension threading through my limbs.

  Then his blade grazed my arm.

  Pain flared. I stumbled, then turned his momentum against him, sweeping his legs out from beneath him. He crashed to the ground.

  I didn’t strike.

  “You misunderstand, Ruik,” I said softly. “I have worshipped the Blessed Mother my entire existence. Yet you carry her in visions—dreams, almost memories. Ones I cannot ignore.”

  He pushed himself upright.

  “For centuries my life has served the Veil,” I continued. “And yet you—a young Dawnsworn—have overturned everything. Now I see why they sent me to find you.”

  He drew a slow breath. Fire still burned beneath his skin.

  “I told you,” he said, voice raw, “I don’t care about your visions. All I want is to kill you and the rest of your kind.”

  His eyes glowed like embers. Veins lit beneath his skin like molten metal. This was not anger.

  It was hunger.

  “Your thirst for death does not match your mortality,” I said. “Perhaps I could turn you—so you wouldn’t merely follow it.”

  “You jest?” he snapped. “Tempt me now? My family’s blood still wet on your hands?”

  “It was not I who ordered it,” I said, stepping closer. “The Veil has leaders you do not understand. We are guided by her hand alone. Aszirel speaks to our leader. He obeys.”

  “Easy,” he said, “to blame others for your actions.”

  “Do you not follow orders?” I countered. “Does the Dawnsworn not move as one body?”

  His gaze faltered.

  His necklace lay lost in shadow.

  “Where were you,” I asked quietly, “when we attacked?”

  His hands trembled.

  “It’s true,” he whispered. “I failed them.”

  I stepped closer.

  “I know what broken feels like.”

  “Then why,” he said hoarsely, “would I choose to be broken forever—like you?”

  The words struck deeper than I expected.

  “I gave you a chance,” I said after a moment. “Something I never had.”

  He spat at my feet and lunged.

  I slipped aside, his blade ripping past my ribs, heat grazing my skin. I turned to counter—

  —but he was gone.

  He pivoted with inhuman force. His shoulder slammed into me, lifting me off my feet and hurling me into a smoldering tree. It split apart in a burst of bark and embers.

  I hissed, forcing myself upright.

  “You stubborn fool.”

  He charged again, pulse roaring loud enough to drown reason.

  I caught the blow. Sparks flared. I skidded back, boots carving trenches through ash. His next strike drove me to one knee.

  “You can’t outlast me,” I rasped.

  “You don’t know me.”

  His arm twitched—

  “RUUUUIK!”

  Tom’s voice tore through the smoke. Jarold burst into the clearing behind him, bloodied, wide-eyed.

  “Back away from him!” Tom shouted.

  Jarold planted himself beside Ruik. “We leave no Dawnsworn behind.”

  “I wasn’t going to kill him,” I said, rising slowly.

  “That’s what they all say,” Jarold growled.

  Ruik’s breath came ragged. They saw the fire in him. The fear in their eyes confirmed it.

  Something in me softened. Then cracked.

  “Ruik,” I said quietly. “I need answers. And you are the only one who can give them.”

  “He owes you nothing,” Jarold snapped.

  I lowered my blade.

  “I don’t want to fight them,” I said. “But I will—if you force me away from you.”

  Ruik stepped forward despite Jarold’s grip.

  “You chase the wrong enemy,” I said. “You think killing me will give you peace? Will it resurrect those you lost?”

  That broke him.

  He lunged—

  —but I was already moving.

  I vanished between burning cottages, faster than human eyes could follow.

  “I will return for you, Ruik,” my voice echoed from the dark.

  “Whether you want answers or not… Aszirel already chose you.”

  Silence reclaimed the clearing.

  I didn’t look back.

  Because I knew.

  He would be ready one day.

  The only question was whether, when that day came—

  How broken would he be?