Kage’s POV

  The warehouse was packed, the air thick with the scent of oil, damp wood, and something acrid that lingered at the back of my throat. The air buzzed with tension, bodies pressed together in silent anticipation. This wasn’t a gathering of mere sympathizers—it was an army waiting for orders. I remained hidden in the shadows, my breathing controlled, every muscle coiled for movement. I had followed the whispers, the breadcrumbs of rumors that led to this meeting—the Sovereign Order’s gathering place.

  From my vantage point above the rafters, I could see them. Dozens of men and women stood in the dim light, their silver bands gleaming against their sleeves. They were waiting, murmuring, expectant.

  Then, silence.

  A ripple of movement spread through the assembly as a figure stepped onto the raised platform, the crowd parting like a wave. Even before I got a clear look, I could feel the shift—a current of reverence, fear, and something darker. Whoever this was, they weren’t just respected. They were followed. I tensed. I had expected a faceless bureaucrat, another mindless enforcer of the Order’s doctrine. But instead, the man who emerged commanded the room with quiet authority.

  Alric Dain.

  The name had surfaced over and over again in my investigation. A ghost of a name, whispered in fear. But this wasn’t just some Sovereign Order enforcer. Alric Dain wasn’t merely a politician. He was the leader of the Sovereign Order.

  I exhaled slowly, pressing deeper into the shadows as Dain spoke. “We have allowed them to exist unchecked for too long,” his voice carried, smooth, measured. “The magicals spread their corruption, believing themselves above the natural order. That ends now.”

  Murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd.

  “Our work has already begun,” Dain continued, his voice steady. “Some of them have already disappeared from the streets, taken before they could spread their corruption further. We have removed the worst offenders, and soon, the rest will follow. They think they can hide, but we know where they are.”

  “We will not be ignored any longer. The Council has failed us, and it falls to us to cleanse the rot from our city. No more hesitation. No more empty threats. We take action.”

  A roar of agreement followed, fists raised. My stomach twisted. This wasn’t just rhetoric—Dain was confirming what I had feared. The Sovereign Order had already been abducting magicals, removing them in secret. This wasn’t just a plan for the future; it was happening now. My stomach twisted. This wasn’t just a rally. It was a declaration of war.

  Before I could gather more information, a sharp movement caught my eye—a subtle signal exchanged between two guards. One of them turned, scanning the rafters with practiced precision, his fingers resting near the hilt of a blade. I tensed. They were expecting spies. I didn’t hesitate. I melted into the darkness, slipping away before I was spotted. I had heard enough.

  By the time I returned home, my mind was racing. I stepped onto the front stoop of Zara’s building, barely noticing the chill in the air—until I saw it.

  Painted across Zara’s door in jagged, dripping strokes was a message:

  We know what you are.

  A slow, burning rage settled into my chest.

  Zara emerged from inside, a bucket of soapy water in one hand and a rag in the other, her green eyes widening as she took in the sight. She had been about to clean the message off the door before I got home—she hadn’t wanted me to worry. “Kage—”

  “Inside. Now,” I ordered, shoving the door open and stepping through.

  Zara followed, but her expression was caught between cold fury and something more fragile—fear. She kept her chin high, but I saw the way her fingers clenched around the rag in her hand, how she inhaled sharply before speaking. “This is exactly what they want—to scare me. To make me leave.”

  “And you should,” I snapped, barely keeping my fury in check. “They know where you live. This isn’t some random threat.”

  “And running will do what?” Zara folded her arms, her voice controlled, but I could hear the slight waver beneath it. “I won’t be chased out of my own home. I won’t let them win.” I knew she was trying to convince herself as much as me.

  Malrick stood near the back of the room, his expression grim. “This is because of me. I led them here.”

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  Zara turned sharply. “No, you didn’t. This isn’t your fault.”

  I exhaled through my nose, forcing myself to steady my breathing. “No one’s blaming you, Malrick. But this changes things. We can’t pretend they’re not coming for us.”

  Silence filled the room, heavy with the weight of realization. The Sovereign Order wasn’t just lurking in the shadows anymore.

  They were making their move.

  Zara walked back outside with her bucket and rag, determined to wash the message off the door before anyone else could see it. Her hands shook slightly as she scrubbed at the dark strokes, but her jaw was set, her movements sharp and deliberate. She refused to let them have this power over her.

  I watched her from the doorway, my expression unreadable, but my voice was firm when I turned to Malrick. “Tomorrow at the university, I need you to look out for her. There’s a lot of tension in the city again. If anything happens, if you see anything—”

  “I’ll be there,” Malrick interrupted, his voice low but sure. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

  I nodded, but the knot in my chest didn’t loosen. I trusted Malrick, but trust didn’t stop a blade. I placed a hand on Malrick’s shoulder, my voice firm. “Remember everything I’ve taught you so far. Keep your guard up, and don’t hesitate if something feels wrong. I trust you.” Malrick swallowed, his usual guilt flickering behind his eyes, but he gave a sharp nod. “I won’t let you down.” I exhaled, but the unease inside me remained. And right now, anger was building everywhere.

  I turned toward Malrick, my expression unreadable but intent. “Come with me.”

  Malrick hesitated but followed as I led him out into the courtyard, away from Zara’s sight. She was too focused on scrubbing the message off the door, and I didn’t want her to see what came next.

  The night air was cool, but the tension between us was palpable. I turned, folding my arms. “You’ve learned a lot, but now I need you to take the next step. Magic isn’t just about control—it’s about survival. You need to learn how to use your magic in a fight.”

  Malrick swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. “I—I don’t know if I can.”

  I let my voice harden. “You have to. If something happens, if Zara is in danger, you need to be ready. And I think you can do something that might save her one day.”

  Malrick frowned. “What do you mean?”

  I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Blood. You’ve worked with it already. I think, with the right control, you’ll be able to move the blood in someone’s body. Control them. Stop them.”

  Malrick’s eyes widened, and he took a step back. “That—that sounds wrong.”

  “It’s not about right or wrong,” I said evenly. “It’s about necessity. If you can stop someone from hurting Zara—or yourself—before they even strike, then you take control of the fight before it begins.”

  He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to control people.”

  “And I don’t want you to use it unless you have no other choice,” I admitted. “But you need to understand what you’re capable of. If you hesitate when it matters most, people die.”

  Malrick clenched his jaw, staring at the ground. I could see the battle warring inside him. The doubt. The fear. But also the understanding.

  “Try it on me,” I said finally.

  His head snapped up. “What? No. I can’t—”

  “You can. And you will.” I squared my shoulders. “If you’re going to learn, it needs to be controlled. It needs to be precise.”

  He hesitated, his hands shaking as he slowly raised one. I felt the shift immediately—a pull inside my body, deep in my veins. My muscles locked, my breathing hitched. It was like something was threading through me, tightening, like I was no longer fully in control of my own limbs.

  Malrick’s breathing turned ragged. “I—I don’t like this.”

  “Good,” I gritted out. “Now let go.”

  He dropped his hand, and the sensation vanished. I stumbled back a step, rolling my shoulders, the unnatural stiffness leaving my limbs. Malrick’s face was pale, his hands trembling.

  “That was—” he shook his head. “That was awful.”

  “And yet, you did it,” I said. “And next time, you’ll be better at it.”

  He looked at me, uncertainty written across his face, but he didn’t argue. He had learned what he needed to.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, watching the way Malrick’s hands still trembled. His face was paler than before, and I could see the weight of what he had just done pressing down on him. Guilt. Fear. I had seen that expression before—on my own face, years ago.

  “Once more,” I said quietly.

  Malrick’s head snapped up. “Kage, I—”

  “You have to be sure,” I interrupted, my voice softer now. “You won’t always have time to hesitate. If you ever need to use this, you need to know you can.”

  He swallowed hard but gave a slow, reluctant nod. This time, when he lifted his hand, I could feel the change—his control was steadier, his focus sharper. The same pull gripped my body, my muscles freezing, my breath locking in my throat. Then, I felt something else. A shift. My arm lifted slightly against my will, then bent at the elbow. My legs stiffened, then moved, just a fraction, like unseen strings pulling at me.

  Malrick’s breathing turned shallow. “I can feel it. I can feel the blood pushing, pulling—like I’m inside it.”

  “Good,” I said through clenched teeth, the unnatural sensation crawling under my skin. “Now try to stop me from moving altogether.”

  His grip tightened, the invisible force pressing down on my limbs like iron. I couldn’t move. My body wasn’t mine anymore. Malrick’s eyes widened, horror flickering behind them, but his control didn’t waver.

  “Now let go,” I instructed, keeping my voice even.

  He released his hold, and I staggered back, rolling my shoulders. Malrick’s hands trembled, his face pale.

  “I—I hate this,” he admitted.

  I nodded. “I know. And I’m sorry for pushing you like this.”

  He blinked, clearly not expecting an apology. “You—what?”

  “I know how it feels,” I continued. “To use something inside you that feels… wrong. But sometimes, survival means doing things you don’t want to do. And I need you to be ready. For yourself. For Zara.”

  Malrick was silent for a long moment, then finally, he gave a small nod. “Okay. But… I don’t want to practice this all the time.”

  “We won’t,” I assured him.

  We turned back toward the house, the night air cold around us. I knew Malrick wouldn’t forget this lesson anytime soon. And I knew that when the time came, he wouldn’t hesitate.