Page 90 of Shadowkissed

I shift part way so I can still wield my weapons and take down a beast that lunges for one of the witches, shielding her with my body before kicking it off and spinning to block another blow. My arms are burning, my ribs bruised. Someone screams nearby, and I can’t tell if they’re ours or his.

And still—he doesn’t move. Just stands there, watching Liora like she’s the only thing on the battlefield worth noticing.

She’s a goddamn inferno.

Magic spilling from her fingertips in twin streams of gold and shadow, her hair whipping like ink in a hurricane. Her power levels half the field—twists the air into a vacuum, then explodes it outward, flinging three of Seraphiel’s enforcers across the courtyard like rag dolls.

One of them gets up. Barely.

Liora lifts her hand and he turns to ash.

The rebels rally behind her.

Every time she strikes, they surge forward.

We’re gaining ground. Slowly. Painfully.

But then helaughs.

Seraphiel. Still untouched. Still unmoved.

He raises one hand—and every single one of his enforcers still standingfreezes.

Then falls back.

Retreats like shadows sucked back into night.

The battlefield stills. Only the moans of the wounded and the hiss of dying magic remain.

And then he starts walking.

Toward her.

Each step echoes like a drumbeat from the underworld.

His wings stretch wider. His armor glows brighter. His smile is the worst thing I’ve ever seen.

He looks at Liora, eyes blazing like two suns on the verge of collapse.

“Enough,” Seraphiel says, calm, amused. “Let’s not keep fate waiting, little star.”

44

LIORA

Everything slows when he steps through the rift. Seraphiel. Tall, golden-eyed, every inch of him dripping power and poison. His wings spread behind him like the sky itself bowed to his presence—shimmering, spectral, unfurling like memory and fire.

The worldshuddersaround him.

The Veil howls in protest.

And I stand against it all—glowing, trembling, bracing for impact.

“Mine,” he says, voice slick and sweet, a blade dipped in honey. “Come, little star.”

I don’t move. I can’t. My muscles lock even though every part of me screams to act.

He lifts one hand.

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