Page 88 of Shadowkissed

The sun hasn’t risen.

It won’t. Not today.

The sky’s stuck in that eerie not-light—gray bleeding into copper, like the world’s caught holding its breath before something breaks. None of us slept. No one even tried.

We’ve been sharpening blades and sketching wards into stone, tracing every line like it might be the one that holds the darkness back even though we know better. But it might buy us time.

I look around at my loft, home that doesn’t feel like home anymore. It feels like a fucking tomb waiting to be filled.

The witches are chanting softly in the back hall. The shifters are pacing outside, tails stiff, jaws tight. The vampires sleep with one eye open—or don’t sleep at all. The warlocks sit in the corners like broken statues, muttering to their shadows.

Everyone’s waiting because we allfeltit. When Liora lit up the night like a damn second sun, Seraphiel felt it too.

And now he’s coming to take what he thinks belongs to him.

She’s standing in the map room when I find her—hands braced on the table, hair braided down her back like a war banner, shoulders squared under a weight no one else could carry.

The glow still clings to her skin. Dimmer now, but no less dangerous.

Like she’s wrapped in something ancient and barely restrained.

My mouth goes dry.

“You haven’t eaten,” I say softly, crossing the room.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You still need?—”

“Ineedto focus,” she snaps, but it’s not at me. Not really. She’s just holding herself together with frayed strings and caffeine and sheer willpower. “He’s going to tear the world apart. I haven’t had enough time to practice with this. Hell, I don’t think there is practicing with this. I almost feel dumb for calling all this power to me and–”

“You had to, Liora. You needed to. And you can control it.”

“But–”

I step in front of her, gently taking her hands. “They’ll follow you.”

Her eyes lift to mine. “They’lldiefor me.”

“Then let’s make sure they don’t have to.”

The plan’s simple.Not because it’s smart.

Because there’s no time to get fancy.

We protect the Veil lines. We anchor Earth’s magic with every blood-bound witch and sigil-tied warrior we’ve got. We draw Seraphiel into the physical realm.

And then we kill him before he can kill us or before he slips back into the shadows in his mist form.

“You still have doubts,” she says later, her voice quieter now. “I can feel them.”

I don’t lie.

“I have fear.”

“For me?”

“Forlosingyou.”

---