The scroll arrived at sunrise.
Sealed in black wax. No crest. No scent.Just cold magic that bit at my fingertips the moment I touched it.
I broke the seal. The parchment unfurled itself like it was alive.
"The Trials are postponed indefinitely. Security evaluation in progress. Await further instruction."
That was it.No signature. No explanation.
Daxos leaned over my shoulder, reading it with a sneer. "Cowards."
Sevrin snatched the scroll from my hand and held it up to the light. "There's no magic residue. No tracking runes. They don't want us to know where it came from."
Azric sprawled on the couch behind us, arms folded, eyes cold. "Because it didn't come from a Trial coordinator. It came from the Council."
Daxos nodded. "They're panicking."
I folded my arms. "Let them."
But Nyra didn't look amused. She stepped into the room from the balcony, her expression sharp. "They're not just stalling. They're buying time. To regroup. To plan."
Azric's voice slid through the tension. "To kill you."
The room went quiet.
I didn't flinch. Didn't blink.
Let them try.
Later that afternoon, I slipped away.
I needed air. Space. A moment to think without three god-tier testosterone grenades breathing down my neck.
Nyra had just rolled her eyes and handed me a warded dagger. "Be back before sunset. Or don't. I'll raise hell either way."
The palace courtyard was still. Too still.
Even the guards avoided eye contact as I walked. No one spoke. No one bowed.
And that's when I knew.
Something was wrong.
I heard the shift before I saw it.The scrape of boot on stone. A breath too quiet. A shadow that didn't belong.
I turned—just as the cloaked figure lunged.
I dodged the first strike, barely. The blade caught my shoulder, slicing through skin like silk. Fire bloomed instantly. Magic laced.
Silencing spell.
My scream died in my throat.
I moved fast—dropped low, swept my leg, caught the assassin's ankle. They stumbled. I surged up and drove my dagger into their side.
But it wasn't enough.
They snarled—inhuman—and threw me against the stone wall.
My shoulder shattered with pain. Blood smeared the marble.
They raised their blade.
And then—
My blood hit the floor.
And the stone cracked.
Flames erupted from the fissures, swallowing the air. The assassin screamed as roots exploded from the cracks and wrapped around their limbs like snakes.
I stood. Shaking. Burning.
My eyes glowed gold. My veins lit up with forest and flame. My magic didn't ask this time.It answered.
I raised my hand.
"Burn."
The assassin burst into fire.
Their scream died instantly.
And then—
Sevrin arrived.
He was a blur of black and fury.
He grabbed me before I could collapse, arms locking around my waist like steel.
"You're bleeding," he snarled. "Where—who—"
His eyes landed on the pile of ash still smoking beside us.
He turned, looking at the burn marks on the wall. The cracked stone. The fire still simmering in my fingertips.
He didn't speak.
Didn't have to.
His rage burned hotter than the fire I conjured.
By the time Daxos and Azric arrived, I was sitting on the marble bench, Nyra healing my shoulder while Sevrin paced like a loaded weapon.
Azric crouched in front of me, his hand brushing my knee. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
Daxos stood over the ashes, gaze sharp. "That wasn't a hired killer."
Nyra snorted. "No shit."
Daxos turned to me. "That was a blood oath assassin. Sent by the Council."
Azric's expression darkened. "They're not hiding it anymore."
I met Daxos's eyes. "Why now?"
He exhaled. "Because they know the bond's complete. And they know they can't kill us all."
Sevrin stopped pacing. "So they're going to try to kill her instead."
Daxos looked at me. "They tried once before."
The room froze.
Azric's voice was barely audible. "What do you mean?"
Daxos's eyes never left mine. "The day your bloodline fell. The 'purge.' It wasn't a riot. It was an execution."
My heart slowed.
"They sent me to lead it," he said, voice hollow. "Before I knew. Before I felt the soul inside the ember."
Azric stood slowly. "And when you did?"
"I turned. I killed the ones they sent with me. And they locked me away for a century because of it."
Sevrin cursed. Nyra whispered something I couldn't hear.
And me?
I stood.
My shoulder still burned. My magic still buzzed.
I looked at all of them—my mates, my witch, my war god.
"They want me gone," I said.
Azric nodded. "They always have."
"Then they should have killed me the day I was born."
The stone beneath my feet cracked again.
And this time?
No one tried to stop me.