The outer wall was fire.
From the parapet, Jayden could see the Shadowborn spilling through the breach in the east like ants from a broken nest. Siege towers—slick, black wood bound with iron bands—loomed above the wall, their wheels crushing the bodies of the fallen. Arrows hissed through the night like swarms of angry insects, and the air smelled of ash and cold steel.
Aerin shoved him behind the cover of a battlement just as a spear of shadow split the stone where he'd been standing. The shards burned with frostbite where they touched his cloak.
"Stay low," she barked, already loosing a throw from her moonstone axe. The weapon sang through the air, embedding itself in the chest of a Shadowborn clambering up the wall. He disintegrated into smoke before he could scream.
Jayden rose, sword drawn, and his silver flame erupted outward—arcing into a line of advancing warriors on the wall's ledge. They went down one after another, their armor hissing under the heat.
The shadow in his blood purred approval. Good. But there are faster ways.
Jayden ignored it and scanned the chaos below.
Three siege towers had already reached the base of the wall. Shadowborn poured from their decks like a black tide, swarming over the defenders. Even the griffin riders circling overhead were struggling—one mount screamed as a shadow lance pierced its wing, sending it spiraling into the streets below.
"They're going to hit the First Gate!" Aerin shouted. "If they breach there, the market district's gone!"
Jayden didn't answer—because he'd already seen her.
The masked figure. Standing on the deck of the central siege tower, hands clasped behind their back like they were watching a play. The chaos around them bent, just slightly, as though every move of the Shadowborn was part of their design.
When their mask turned toward him, Jayden's chest tightened.
Let me out, the shadow whispered. We could cut through the tower. Bring it down in one strike.
Jayden gripped the parapet hard enough for the stone to bite into his palms. "Not yet."
A war horn bellowed from the First Gate—and then the sound cut off abruptly. The gate's great moonsteel hinges screamed as a shadow blade the size of a tree trunk sheared through them like parchment.
The gate fell.
The Shadowborn poured in.
Jayden could see the market stalls from here—bright awnings torn down by the wind, carts overturned. The first wave of civilians fled down side streets, but the second wave… froze. The Shadowborn didn't cut them down right away. They watched. Herded them.
Aerin cursed. "They're not just sacking the city. They're taking—"
"Prisoners," Jayden finished.
The shadow in him stirred again. If you used my full strength, they'd never reach the market. You know this.
An explosion ripped through the wall a few towers down, showering them with fragments of moonstone. Aerin grabbed Jayden's shoulder. "We can't hold here—we need to fall back to the inner ring!"
Jayden looked from the masked figure to the collapsing street below, torn.
The shadow pressed harder. One breath, and I end this.
He could almost see it—power not as light or fire, but as something older, deeper, swallowing the Shadowborn whole before they could take another step. The thought made his pulse quicken… and his hands shake.
"Jayden!" Aerin's voice was sharp enough to cut through the pull. "Now!"
He nodded, forcing himself to turn from the wall. They sprinted along the parapet toward the stair to the inner gate, weaving between knots of defenders locked in brutal melee. The cries of the wounded echoed in the narrow space between walls.
Below, the masked figure still watched him.
They didn't raise a weapon. They didn't shout. They simply inclined their head.
And Jayden felt it—like a hook sinking into his chest. A connection that stretched across the chaos, unbreakable.
Soon, the shadow murmured, its voice overlapping with theirs. You won't run from me.
They reached the inner gate just as the order to seal it was given. Huge chains rattled as the portcullis came down, the iron bars slamming into place with a hollow, final thud. Behind them, the First Gate district was already drowning in shadow.
Jayden caught his breath, but the cold rhythm inside him didn't slow. It was counting down again.
And he was starting to think he knew what happened when it reached zero.