Page 90 of Severed Heir

I snapped my fingers at the journalist. “His real name is DamienAssholeLynch. That’s my final quote for your dumb story.”

Damien groaned. “Please don’t print that or I’ll never hear the end of it from my father.”

The journalist nodded, then slowly backed up. “Ugh, shit. I should probably move before I die.”

“Release the beast!” a guard bellowed from the field. Another stepped forward and, with a single clean arc of his blade, severed the iron chains buried deep in the earth.

Damien and I turned. Then all five of us froze.

“Oh, shit,” Knox muttered. “Why does it have to be a snake? Why not, I don’t know, a swarm of magical butterflies?”

The ground trembled. A jagged crack split the dirt open, forming a crater that belched dust into the air. From the void, a massive serpent surged upward—scales like obsidian, slick and shining. Its hiss split the silence, sharp as a blade to the throat.

It rose, higher and higher, until its full height towered above the field. Over thirty feet of coiled menace, its body was edged in curved black horns that caught the light like weapons forged from night.

I didn’t wait.

One of my daggers flew, slicing across its lower half with a sharp, satisfying hiss.

Knox darted forward. “Aim better,” he said, his feet pounding against the ground as he ran after the snake.

Then it slid back into the crater, tearing up dirt and debris in its wake. I stumbled a step, wiping a slick of wet sludge from my cheek as a voice curled through my mind like the wind.

“Win, my love,”Monty said softly.“So one day we can be free.”

“I’ll survive,”I answered, steadying myself.“I promise.”

The promise was more for me than for Monty. This was what all my siblings had fought for. A Herring wouldn’t bleed for show. I wouldn’t scream. I would rise, like the wind from the Eastern Autumn lands. Or I’d die trying.

Maybe Knox was right. Magical butterflies sounded like a hell of a lot safer option than a fully matured lindworm.

He stood at the edge of the crater, peering down like it might swallow him next. “Anyone got a torch?” he called out. “Seriously. Anyone?”

Lydia and the others circled the hole where the snake had vanished. I jogged to Knox, dropping my voice so Damien couldn’t hear. “If I don’t make it, keep Damien away from Severyn. Promise me, cousin.”

His glare slid to Damien, who was busy waving to his father like this was some royal parade.

“Gladly,” he muttered. “I’d kill the bastard myself if I could. Never liked him.”

A flicker of relief passed through me.

My stomach muscles clenched as I stepped toward the crater’s edge. It was massive, nearly wide enough to fit three horses side by side. The whole ‘kill a magical snake to win a crown’ tradition had never made much sense to me. Honestly, it felt cruel. I was the kind of person who caught and released bugs. But this was it. Now or never.

“It curves toward Autumn,” I said to Knox, eyeing the faint line in the dirt.

“Or Day,” Lydia added softly. “Could be either.”

Knox squinted into the dark. “Let’s be real. We’re staring into a black hole and none of us can see a damn thing.” Then, without warning, he jumped and vanished into the pit. “No sense standing around. One of us has a trial to win.”

That moment before a bloodbath was always the most awkward. Or so I’d heard. Who would swing first? Who’d break the unspoken truce? Tradition said we waited until only two were left standing. But tradition, like blood, spilled easily.

Damien stepped up behind me, his presence brushing too close. “Want a piggyback? For old time’s sake?” He held out a hand, grinning like this wasn’t about to end in death. “We used to be friends, Mallie.”

We had, back when we were kids dragged to Serpent gatherings by our fathers. Back when names didn’t weigh like chains and legacy was just a word, not a weapon. But that boy was long gone.

The man standing beside me now?

He was poison.

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