Draven:
I perched on the edge of the rooftop, the wind cutting against my skin.
The city stretched below me—panicked, unraveling, doomed.
I had run.
The moment the guards hesitated, the moment I saw their fingers tighten around their weapons but not move, I had made a choice.
I ran because I had to.
Or at least, that’s what I told myself.
The truth was—
I wasn’t sure if I had run from them or from what I had become.
My breath was unsteady. I pressed my hands against the slanted tiles beneath me, trying to ground myself, trying to feel something real.
Blood still clung to my fingers.
My father’s blood.
I exhaled slowly, but the air felt thick in my lungs, like something was pressing against my ribs from the inside.
"I killed him."
I forced the thought down.
But it didn’t leave.
I didn’t kill Alistar out of instinct. Not out of confusion, not out of something alien hijacking my body.
I had been fully aware.
And it had been easy.
My fingers curled against the tiles.
I wasn’t sure what scared me more—that I had done it with complete control, or that some part of me had wanted to see what it would feel like.
The wind howled.
The bells had stopped ringing, but their weight still sat in my chest, echoing through my ribs like an ache that wouldn’t fade.
Maybe it had been rage. Maybe it had been instinct.
Maybe I had done it because some part of me wanted to understand what I was becoming.
That thought terrified me the most.
I wasn’t sure if I could trust myself anymore.
I wasn’t sure if I was even myself at all.
Then—
Movement.
At the edge of my vision, past the city walls.
I narrowed my eyes.
A mob.
Approaching Evermere, moving like a dark mass, shifting in the low light. But I couldn’t see their faces. Couldn’t see if they were human.
A cold chill settled in my spine.
Whoever they were—
They were coming.
And Evermere wasn’t ready.
The wind shifted.
A slow, deliberate shift, like the air itself had recognized something was here.
I stiffened.
The city below was still in chaos—people running, voices raised, the fractured sky spilling its unnatural colors over Evermere. But the moment the presence arrived, it was like the sound itself dulled.
Not silenced.
Just... distant.
My muscles tensed.
I wasn’t alone.
I turned my head slightly, my breath steady, my fingers twitching against the rooftop tiles.
There—
At the opposite edge of the roof.
A figure.
Tall. Still. Watching.
The way he stood was almost unnatural—too composed, like a sculpture carved into the night. The wind moved around him instead of touching him. His coat, long and layered, barely shifted despite the height, despite the open air.
Even in the dim light, I could see the silver embroidery lining the fabric, intricate designs that seemed to twist the longer I looked at them.
I swallowed, my pulse slow, controlled, alert.
I didn’t know who he was.
But I knew power when I saw it.
His face was partially obscured by shadow, but even still—I felt his eyes on me. Not aggressive. Not expectant.
Just aware.
I stayed perfectly still.
The way he had arrived—soundless, unnoticed until I turned—meant he had chosen to let me see him.
That alone made me cautious.
He didn’t move.
Neither did I.
For a long moment, we simply watched each other, the wind howling softly between us, the city below collapsing further into panic.
And still—
He said nothing.
The figure finally moved.
Not much. Just a tilt of the head, a shift of weight that barely disturbed the space around him. And yet, it was enough.
Enough to make the moment feel real.
Enough to send something cold curling up my spine.
Then, in a voice both measured and deep, he spoke.
"Draven Thorn."
My body tensed.
Not because I was surprised he knew my name.
But because of how he said it.
Like he had always known it. Like it had been spoken before, in places I had never been.
I didn’t move. Didn’t respond.
He took a step forward, his coat barely shifting, his presence sinking into the space between us like a shadow stretching in moonlight.
"I imagine you have questions."
His tone wasn’t dismissive, nor was it inviting. It was simply a statement.
I swallowed, my pulse tight in my throat.
"I don’t have time to answer them."
The wind howled between us. Below, Evermere’s streets were collapsing into chaos, but up here, on this rooftop, the world felt… still.
"You and I were supposed to be having a different conversation," he continued.
His gaze flickered, like he was assessing something, measuring it. Then—his brow furrowed slightly.
"Strange."
I stiffened.
"Your magic… it’s still flowing."
His words settled in my ribs like ice.
I didn’t respond. I wasn’t even sure I could.
"We shut it down." His voice wasn’t harsh, but it was too direct to be anything but deliberate. "It shouldn’t be active. And yet, here you stand—magic still burning, still… activated.”
Activated.
Like I was a ticking fuse, waiting to be lit.
Like I was something that wasn’t supposed to be awake.
My chest tightened. I didn’t even know my magic had been suppressed to begin with.
But before I could even process what that meant—
He moved on.
"That doesn’t matter now."
His voice cut through the wind, through the weight settling inside my skull.
"You need to listen carefully."
A pause. Then—
"Something is taking over you."
My body went rigid.
"It starts with your subconscious." His eyes didn’t leave mine. "And it works its way up."
My heartbeat slowed.
The wind roared, but the world suddenly felt too silent.
"Right now, you’re still aware of yourself. But that won’t last forever."
I swallowed hard, my fingers curling against the rooftop tiles.
"It won’t be a sudden change. It won’t be something you feel immediately. It will creep in, piece by piece, until there is nothing left to fight."
His words dug into me, deeper than I wanted them to.
"That’s why I’m here."
I wanted to say something. Wanted to demand an answer. Wanted to tell him he was wrong—
But I couldn’t.
Because some part of me—the part that I had been drowning in guilt, in fear, in self-doubt—already knew he wasn’t.
I had felt it.
In the library. In the streets. In the cell.
In the moment my hands had closed around Alistar’s throat.
I had told myself I was fully in control.
But what if I hadn’t been?
What if I was already losing—
And I just hadn’t noticed?
The Arbiter exhaled softly, as if he was running out of time. His shoulders squared slightly, gaze sharpening.
"I won’t ask you to fix what’s already broken."
His voice was calm. Direct.
"But I will ask you this—"
For the first time, he felt real. Not just a presence. Not just an untouchable force. But something standing here, seeing me, speaking to me like I still had a choice.
"Help them."
The words settled in my chest like a blade.
"Evermere will not survive this night. But you can still decide what kind of person you leave it as."
Something cracked in my ribs, a pressure too deep to name.
"Consider seeking redemption, Draven Thorn."
His coat shifted.
His form blurred.
Then—
He was gone.
Vanished, like he had never been here to begin with.
The wind howled louder.
And I sat there, frozen, my breath unsteady—
Staring down at the city I had already failed to save.
The wind howled.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
The Arbiter’s words still clung to my ribs, digging in like hooks that refused to loosen.
"Consider seeking redemption, Draven Thorn."
Redemption.
I exhaled sharply, tilting my head back toward the sky. The fractures above Evermere stretched endlessly, their colors spilling through the heavens like open wounds.
Did I even have the right to help these people?
Would they even want it?
They had always been cautious of me. Even before I had killed my own father, even before I had lost myself in blood, they had watched me like I was something that didn’t belong.
What difference would it make now?
I curled my fingers against the rooftop tiles, my pulse slow, steady.
And beyond that—
Could I even do this alone?
Whatever was inside of me—whatever had moved my hands in ways I barely understood, whatever had bled into my mind like a shadow with no source—I had tried to push it down.
But now, I wasn’t sure if I could do anything without it.
The thought made my jaw clench.
Even after everything, part of me still wanted to fight for them.
Not because they deserved it. Not because they trusted me.
But because I needed to prove something to myself.
That I wasn’t just whatever was inside me. That I wasn’t just a force of destruction waiting to happen.
That I could still be something more.
But even beneath that, buried in the depths of my ribs—
Was the truth I didn’t want to admit.
Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I still wanted to be appreciated.
I still wanted to be seen.
Not as a monster. Not as a threat.
But as Draven Thorn.
I inhaled deeply.
The night air burned cold against my skin.
I pushed myself to my feet, steadying my stance. The fractured sky loomed above. The city below was unraveling.
I wasn’t the Arbiter.
I wasn’t some savior.
But for now, I was the only one willing to try.
I bent my knees.
And then—
I leapt.
The wind roared against me, the rooftops blurring below as I cut through the night, the moonlight catching against my form.
For a brief moment, suspended midair, surrounded by nothing but the shattered heavens and the chaos below—
I felt weightless.
Like the choice was already made.
Like I was already falling forward.
Then—
I landed in a smooth crouch, my boots hitting stone without a sound.
I lifted my gaze.
And I ran toward the city I wasn’t sure I could save.
Alaric:
The city was too quiet now.
Not in the way it had been before, when Evermere was still holding onto its illusion of control. Not in the way it had been when people refused to acknowledge the fractures in the sky.
This was different.
The kind of quiet that only existed when something was about to happen.
Selene was standing by the window, arms crossed tightly, her breath just barely uneven. She wasn’t looking at me.
She was listening.
We both were.
Somewhere in the distance, the last remnants of order were still trying to hold. The clatter of armor, the sharp bark of commands, the faint metallic ring of swords being drawn. The military was moving.
But there was something off about it.
They weren’t organizing for a battle.
They weren’t moving like people who believed they could win.
They were moving like people who didn’t know what they were up against.
The thought made my fingers twitch. I shifted my weight, exhaling slowly through my nose. The air felt stagnant, thick with something I couldn’t name.
Selene finally spoke, her voice lower than usual. “Do you hear that?”
I almost told her no—that there was nothing to hear, that we were just overthinking it—
But that would have been a lie.
Because I did hear it.
Something underneath the silence.
Something distant, but moving closer.
A sound I didn’t recognize.
I had spent my entire life in Evermere. I knew the streets, the bells, the voices of the city. I had heard crowds in panic, heard military orders shouted from the districts, heard the whispers of people afraid to speak too loudly.
But this?
This was new.
And that—
That terrified me more than anything else.
I could feel it now.
Not just the silence. Not just the weight pressing against my ribs.
Something else.
Something wrong.
Selene hadn’t moved from the window, but I could tell her grip had tightened around her arms. She wasn’t just watching anymore.
She was waiting.
I swallowed, my throat dry.
“The soldiers aren’t moving right.” The words left me before I fully processed them.
Selene turned slightly, her brows knitting together. “What?”
I exhaled sharply. “They’re not forming a line. They’re not setting up blockades. They’re just—” My jaw clenched.
They were hesitating.
Even from here, I could see the way their formations faltered, how they didn’t move in steady unison like they had been trained to.
Like something ahead of them had stopped them cold.
The city was still burning. People were still running. The sky was still splitting apart like something ancient had finally been disturbed.
But the soldiers weren’t focused on any of that.
They were focused on something else.
Something we couldn’t see.
A shiver ran through me.
Selene inhaled slowly. “Something’s coming.”
The certainty in her voice made my stomach twist.
I wanted to tell her she was wrong. That it was just panic, just the illusion of something worse because Evermere had already lost so much tonight.
But I knew better.
The air was different now.
Heavier. Denser.
Like the city itself had stopped breathing.
Like something had finally stepped through the fractures.
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to focus, forcing my pulse to slow.
Whatever had arrived—
It was already too close.
Then—
The first scream.
Not from a civilian. Not from someone running.
From a soldier.
A sound so sharp, so guttural, that it cut through the night like a blade.
Then another.
Then another.
I turned back toward the window just in time to see the first body drop.
Not just drop—torn apart.
A soldier collapsed mid-step, his body folding in on itself, armor clattering against the stone. His throat—gone. His chest—opened.
Blood splattered across the street.
But there was nothing there.
No weapon. No attacker.
Just the sound of something moving too fast to see.
Selene took a sharp step back, her breath shuddering. “Alaric.”
I couldn’t move.
The next soldier barely had time to scream before he was split in half.
Armor crumpled. Blood hit the walls. The formations—already unsteady—collapsed entirely. The military, the last force of order in Evermere, was being ripped apart before our eyes.
And we couldn’t even see what was killing them.
Then—
The ground shook.
Not like an earthquake. Not like a natural collapse.
Like something had forced the city to its knees.
A building to the right of the soldiers crumbled, torn apart from the center, sending debris crashing into the streets.
Then another.
Then—
A horrible, twisting groan of wood and metal.
The roof above us split apart.
One second, we were in a room. The next, the sky was open above us, fractured and endless, the night air screaming as the remains of the ceiling were ripped away.
I stumbled back, my breath caught in my throat, the force of it slamming into my chest like I had been hit.
Selene barely got out a word before—
A shadow.
A figure.
Leaping through the night toward us.
It was human-shaped.
But nothing about it was human.
The way it moved—fluid, unnatural, too fast, too controlled—made my ribs seize with something sharp and primal.
But I couldn’t see what it was.
I couldn’t make out any features.
Just the silhouette—stretching toward us, closing the distance in an instant.
Selene let out a short, half-strangled breath, her body tensing to run.
But we didn’t have to.
Because the moment the thing got too close—
Something slammed into us from the side.
A force strong, armored, moving with purpose.
A soldier.
His grip was iron, unyielding. I barely had time to process the impact before the ground was already falling away beneath us.
Before we were being pulled from the rooftop, from the collapsing city—
Before the world tilted.
The world lurched.
Wind whipped against my skin, the force of it rattling through my ribs as we were pulled away from the collapsing rooftop.
My thoughts hadn’t caught up yet.
One second, we had been standing there, the roof being peeled away like dead bark, staring at something we couldn’t comprehend.
The next, we were falling backward, the grip of the soldier the only thing keeping us from smashing into the streets below.
Selene twisted, trying to regain balance. The soldier’s grip was unrelenting, dragging us across a lower rooftop before planting both feet hard against the edge and pushing off again.
We weren’t just being saved.
We were being removed.
The city blurred around us, streaks of torchlight and fractured sky melting together as we were forced away from where we had been standing.
Away from the thing that had been coming toward us.
But the moment of safety didn’t last.
Because the shadows were still moving.
The streets below were collapsing into chaos, bodies fleeing in every direction, soldiers still screaming orders that no one followed.
And somewhere beyond the haze of crumbling buildings and open sky—
Something was pushing forward.
Not in the way the soldiers had. Not in the way a mob would.
But like a force that wasn’t stopping for anything.
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to focus, forcing my mind to catch up.
We landed hard against another rooftop. The soldier didn’t let go immediately, his grip steadying us before finally releasing.
I staggered back, my pulse pounding.
Selene turned sharply, eyes snapping toward the soldier, voice breathless but sharp. “What the hell is happening?”
The soldier was already looking behind us.
Back toward the place where we had been standing.
His fingers twitched against his weapon, knuckles pale.
I followed his gaze.
The building we had been in was gone.
Ripped open like something had clawed it apart from the inside.
Like something had wanted us out of it before it arrived.
A sick feeling crawled up my spine.
Whatever had come to Evermere tonight—
It was still coming.
And it wasn’t stopping.
I could still hear the screams.
Distant, distorted—half-swallowed by the wind—but they were there.
The soldier standing with us was tense, his grip still firm on his weapon, his stance too rigid to be anything but uncertainty hidden beneath discipline.
Selene inhaled sharply. “My parents.”
I turned toward her.
She didn’t meet my gaze.
Her hands were clenched at her sides, knuckles pale, her posture stiff—holding something in.
I knew what she was thinking.
I was thinking it too.
I swallowed hard. “We don’t know if—”
“I didn’t see them when we left,” she cut in, voice tighter than before. “I don’t know where they went. I don’t know if—” She stopped herself.
Because she couldn’t say it.
Because if she said it, it would be real.
My stomach twisted.
I had no idea where my parents were either.
And something deep in my ribs—something I didn’t want to acknowledge—was already trying to tell me the answer.
The soldier finally spoke, his voice sharp but not unkind. “We’re pulling civilians from the outer districts.”
Selene turned toward him. “Are they still intact?”
The hesitation was too long.
His expression stayed firm, but I felt the pause.
Then—
“They’re compromised.”
The words felt too small for what they meant.
Selene’s breath caught.
The outer districts were already gone.
And our families were somewhere in them.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to focus, forcing the thoughts down. We didn’t have time for this. We had to keep moving. We had to—
Then—
Selene spoke again, softer. “What about Draven?”
The words hit heavier than I expected.
Because I hadn’t been thinking about him.
And that felt wrong.
I exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down my face. “I don’t know.”
The last time I saw him—really saw him—he was being dragged away in chains.
But I had also seen something moving through the rooftops.
I wasn’t sure if that had been him—
Or if it had been something else wearing his skin.
The soldier shifted. “If he’s still alive, he won’t be for long.”
The statement was blunt. Matter-of-fact. Like it was just another truth of the night.
I frowned. “Why do you say that?”
The soldier didn’t answer immediately.
Then—
“Because nothing survives what’s coming.”
The way he said it made my ribs tighten.
Then—
A blur.
A shadow too fast to react to.
The soldier barely had time to move before something ripped through him, cutting through armor and flesh like it was paper.
Blood sprayed across the rooftop.
His body collapsed before I even had time to breathe.
The soldier’s body hit the rooftop.
And we weren’t alone anymore.
Something moved in the space where he had stood.
Not a blur. Not a trick of the eye. A presence.
I forced my breath to steady, my hands curling into fists. Selene didn’t move either.
Not because we weren’t in danger.
But because we didn’t know what we were looking at.
I had expected something monstrous. Some wild, unknowable shape, something that crawled from the cracks in the sky.
But instead—
It was human.
Almost.
The figure stood tall, its movements slow, measured. The flickering light from the fires below cast shifting shadows across its form, making it difficult to focus on.
Its limbs were too fluid. Its posture too composed.
Like it wasn’t just standing there.
Like it was settling into this world.
The skin was smooth but unnatural, reflecting light in a way that wasn’t quite right. I could see patterns running across its body, faint outlines that almost resembled scales, fur, or something in between.
Its eyes were the worst part.
Not because they glowed. Not because they were voids of darkness.
But because they were too familiar.
They weren’t human. But they weren’t empty, either. They carried something alive, something thoughtful—something that looked back at me and understood.
Selene inhaled sharply beside me.
The figure tilted its head, slow and deliberate.
Like it was watching us react.
Then—
It moved.
I barely registered it happening.
One second, it was standing still. The next, it had closed half the distance between us without a sound.
Selene jerked backward, her breath sharp. My body tensed, my mind racing, every instinct screaming to run.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
Because even as it moved—too fast, too precise, too smooth—there was no aggression in its face.
Only curiosity.
Like it wasn’t just hunting.
Like it was deciding something.
Then—
It raised an arm.
The movement was graceful, almost fluid. A single, perfectly controlled strike—
And I knew.
Even before it happened, I knew.
We weren’t fast enough.
We weren’t getting out of this.
The moment stretched.
Then—
A flash of silver.
A shift of momentum.
The dead soldier’s blade vanished from the ground.
And then, in a single, brutal motion—
Steel met flesh.
A deflection.
A perfect interception.
I barely had time to process what had happened before I saw him.
A figure standing between us and the thing that had just tried to cut us down.
Moonlight caught against his pale skin, his white hair, making him look like something otherworldly in his own right.
His stance was low. Blade gripped in one hand.
His breath—calm. Controlled. Ready.
Draven.
The creature shifted.
Not in fear. Not in hesitation.
Just adjusting.
Like it had already calculated the next move.
But Draven was faster.
Before the thing could strike again, he was already moving.
A single step. A single turn of the blade.
The sword cut cleanly through the space between them.
No wasted movement. No effort.
The blade met flesh.
The creature didn’t even have time to react.
Its form buckled, its balance shifting—
Then, in one swift motion, Draven severed its throat.
The moment stretched.
The figure stilled, its head tilting slightly as if the sensation was foreign to it.
Then—
It collapsed.
Silent. Lifeless.
Like it had never been there at all.
Draven exhaled, lowering the blade slightly.
His expression didn’t change.
Like none of it had mattered.
Like it had been too easy.
???:
The wind still carried the scent of blood.
Draven remained still, blade lowered at his side, his breath even. Like none of this had mattered.
But Alaric felt it—the shift in the air.
Selene exhaled sharply, taking a step forward. “Draven—”
He didn’t turn toward her right away. Didn’t react like someone who had just saved them.
When he finally did look at them, his gaze was unreadable.
Not cold. Not emotionless.
Just… distant.
The moment stretched.
Then—
"You should leave."
Selene’s expression hardened. “Just like that?” Her voice wavered between frustration and something heavier. “You— you just show up, kill whatever that thing was, and then tell us to leave?”
Draven exhaled through his nose. “This isn’t the time—”
"Then what is the time?"
Her voice cut through the night, sharper than any blade.
Draven didn’t flinch. Didn’t shift.
But something flickered in his expression.
Alaric studied him carefully.
The way Draven held himself—his posture too controlled, his movements too measured—wasn’t normal.
This wasn’t training.
This wasn’t discipline.
This was something else entirely.
Alaric sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you.” His gaze flickered to the city behind them, the sky splintering further, the air thick with something unnatural. “But if you have some kind of plan, now would be a good time to share it.”
Draven was silent for a long moment.
Then—
"I don’t have one."
The honesty in his voice made something ache in Alaric’s chest.
He had expected Draven to lie, to twist something into certainty, to tell them he knew exactly what he was doing.
But he didn’t.
And somehow, that was worse.
Selene swallowed, her voice softer now. "Just—just be careful, okay?"
Draven didn’t respond right away.
Then—
"You too."
The words felt like something final.
But none of them acknowledged it.
Because if they did, it would mean they had already accepted how this would end.
The wind howled.
Then—
A force crashed into Draven from above.
The impact was surgical—not wild, not desperate, but perfectly calculated. A single, brutal strike meant to break him.
The world twisted.
Draven’s balance snapped, the stone ledge vanishing beneath his boots as he was thrown clean off the rooftop.
The fractured sky blurred overhead—
Then—
He caught himself.
A sharp twist. A perfect landing. Boots scraped against a lower rooftop as he skidded back into a crouch, blade still in hand.
His pulse remained steady.
His breath didn’t falter.
But his stance had already shifted.
He was already moving before he saw what had hit him.
Then—
A figure dropped onto the rooftop above.
Effortless. Graceful.
She landed without a sound, her frame lean, predatory, impossibly poised—like the movement had required no effort at all.
Draven''s grip tightened.
Because this one—
This one wasn’t like the others.
She was tall, built like a running feline, her limbs long and fluid, her movements unnervingly smooth. Even in the dim light, the lines of her form were too clean, her frame too perfectly balanced between tension and control.
Her skin—dark, dappled, sleek—mimicked the coat of a panther, its subtle pattern shifting slightly as she moved. The markings ran down her arms, her spine, her jawline, stopping just at the edges of her face.
A Panther-blooded.
Not human. But close enough that it was worse.
She was beautiful in the way a blade was beautiful—sleek, deliberate, sharpened to a point.
Draven said nothing.
But ??? noticed the way his stance adjusted—just slightly, just enough.
Her lips curled.
Not in a snarl. Not in amusement.
But in something worse.
She was interested.
"Didn’t expect you to land that."
Her voice was smooth, cloaked in the kind of confidence that came from knowing she had nothing to fear.
"Most things don’t."
Draven’s grip on the blade remained firm. He said nothing.
She hummed.
"You’re not from here."
It wasn’t a question.
Her golden-amber eyes scanned him, searching, calculating.
She didn’t know who he was.
Didn’t know what he was capable of.
But she was already deciding something about him.
"Doesn’t matter," she said finally, exhaling through her nose.
A shift of her weight. A roll of her shoulders. A slow, deliberate flex of razor-sharp claws.
"You won’t be here much longer."
Then—
She moved.