Page 58 of The Midnight Death Match
I sit beneath one of the jagged alcoves, knees pulled close, staring into the ruined altar.
Moonlight spills across the cracked tiles, pale and thin, while the words from the scrolls loop through my mind, over and over.
One life feeds another. Balance broken cannot restore itself.
No loophole, no clean path, and no cooperation strong enough to break it. I was naive to hope otherwise.
The cold bites at my skin, but I don’t feel it. Not fully. I press a palm to my chest, as if that might quiet the storm beneath my ribs. My wolf stirs uneasily beneath the grief. It’s impatient, angry, desperate to fight something it can’t see. But there’s nothing here to strike.
Only silence, ruin, and the quiet pulse of a fate I was never supposed to escape.
I’m the fracture made flesh.
Lys’s voice curls through my mind like smoke. His certainty is seductively terrifying because part of me wants to believe he’s right. And because if the curse cannot be broken, then maybe it needs to be rewritten.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
For one dangerous moment, I feel the hunger beneath my grief—a wild, simmering desire to shatter the rules that bind me. That terrifies me more than anything else.
The soft crunch of boots on broken stone reaches me before the scent of him does. He pauses at the edge of the ruined sanctuary, giving me space. As always. But after a long silence, he crosses the threshold, slow and careful.
Harek. He doesn’t speak at first. Just stands a few paces away, his silhouette haloed by the fractured moonlight bleeding through the ruined ceiling. Finally, he speaks. “I was worried I wouldn’t find you.”
“I didn’t want to be found.”
A beat of silence.
“Even so.”
I breathe, slow and tight, the ache still raw behind my ribs. “Why did you follow me? I thought you were mad at me.”
“I’m not mad.”
“What, then?”
He sighs and moves closer to me. “I’m giving you space.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Why are you pushing me away? After everything we’ve been through together.” His words aren’t sharp, just quietly firm.
I finally look at him. The concern etched in his features makes the pressure behind my eyes burn hot again.
“They made this a choice I can’t win,” I whisper. “Either I kill my father, or I die. That’s not fate. That’s a trap.”
“That’s why it’s called a curse.” He takes a small step closer and frowns. “Still, if that’s the path we stand on, I’ll walk it with you. All the way to the end, whatever it costs.”
I close my eyes, voice breaking around the words. “I don’t want to lose you too.”
“You won’t,” he says. “Not because I’m too strong. But because we fight together. Like we always have.”
The conviction in his voice steadies something inside me, but it doesn’t erase the fear. The dread remains, heavy and sharp. But his words anchor me long enough to breathe again.
“You still believe in me?” I can’t keep the doubt from my voice.
“Always.” Harek doesn’t try to close the space between us. He waits, not pressing for more.
That’s almost harder to bear than anything else.
