Abolisher

Syrene awoke.

Her heart was hammering, head pounding, sweat assaulted her everywhere. But other than that … everything was calm.

Her veins weren’t burning, even as she felt—felt—fire lacing them. Her skin didn’t hurt even as power grated at her like talons.

She felt … strong. Like impenetrable steel. There was so much strength in her limbs, her whole damning form.

But.

Only when she gained sense of the world did she feel the scraping of ropes against her wrists, her arms. Only then did she notice the absence of her friends.

She was trussed tightly to a tree—the Darkness and its whispers stretched far and wide.

Panic ached her throat.

From somewhere in the haze of her senses, a rough voice whispered, Calm.

Her teeth gritted.

Shape me, Starblood. Use me.

No.

She’d be a fool to use Drothiker initially. Whoever had bound her here must be around, watching, waiting. She couldn’t reveal what deal she’d struck with her monster to gain power.

Not yet.

She tested the ropes. They’d torn the leather at her arms and stomach, now rubbing against her bare skin, turning it angry red. It seemed Azryle’s shield around her only kept otherworldly mejest at bay. Not human-made objects.

She focused past the hisses of Darkness, to listen for any other breaths. But before she could glean anything, a twig snapped.

She scented him before he appeared in the range of her sight.

The jaguar was snarling, prowling towards her with immortal stealth. Canines and fangs out in warning.

She wasn’t surprised—no. If anything, she was confused.

Azryle had driven Silencer—ripe with his dark mejest—through Felset, which should have killed Maycusen, too—

Unless the prince hadn’t killed the queen.

“Felset will die, Maycusen.” Her voice came out rougher than rocks. “I don’t see how tethering me here is any useful.”

He didn’t respond—didn’t growl, didn’t lunge. But he paused his stalking.

The shifter motioned towards the trees behind him.

Syrene braced herself. Fear lingered just in her reach. Be at ready, Drothiker.

There was no answer from the beast either. In fact … she felt it retreating from her skin. Fear pointed a dagger at her.

Drothiker—

A shadow appeared at the far end, concealed by the mist. It advanced.

The dagger of fear neared her neck.

“Who is that, Maycusen?” she choked out.

Nothing.

With each step the figure gained towards her, the fear threatening to gash her neared her throat.

“Maycusen,” she urged.

But the jaguar’s eyes only remained staring at the approaching man.

She began struggling against the ropes. Come on, Drothiker, burn the ropes. Now.

But her limbs felt empty, devoid of the strength she’d felt mere moments ago, as if the power—the terrifying, unearthly power—had shrunk back from whoever was stalking for her.

Coward, she fumed.

She knew how to undo the ropes on her own well enough, but with the panic slowly carving itself into her, her fingers found no purchase.

Instead, her hands had begun shaking.

She could make out the body now. The man was average-heighted, strongly built. Other than that, she could make out no more.

“Don’t panic now, Syrene.”

She stilled wholly. Her hands fell from the ropes.

The voice. The voice—

A flash of light and the jaguar swapped Maycusen. The shifter bowed. Then he looked over his shoulder at Syrene—his eyes glinted. “Erauth.”

Her mouth went dry. Fear impaled her—a cruel and sadistic stab, meant not to give a quick death, but to bleed her out.

But the voice …

No. No, this can’t be—

Any life in her vanished as from the shadows emerged the man she’d spent the past year laughing with. The man she’d let kiss her over and over. The man she’d called a friend.

The face cleared. The grin—that grin …

Her heart squeezed so maliciously that she thought it would burst.

“Hello, Cerys.” Kavous knelt before her. “Guess you aren’t the only one fond of fake identities, Syrene.”

Shock and terror rattled her.