1. Raven

ONE

RAVEN

My gaze slowly shifts back and forth between two sets of onyx eyes, both framed with even blacker hair. Emotions flicker across Creed’s face with every passing second as time slows to a near stop.

Did he just say what I think he…

“Father,” he repeats, his brows furrowing as the word falls heavily from his tongue.

There it is again. I definitely heard what I thought I heard, and this man, this warrior, is exactly who I believe him to be. How is that possible?

I gape back at the leader of the Battalions, as Erikel called them, taking in his golden armor, which is stained with crimson and copper patterns, each patch deeper than the last.

A pained gasp rattles in my ears, audible over the rest of the academy’s panic and dismay, and I turn my gaze once more, but this time, it’s not to check on Creed; it’s his mother. Her hand is plastered to her chest, tears tracking down her high cheekbones and dripping from her chin without care. Her eyelids flutter across her brown pupils over and over again, like she can’t believe what she’s seeing, no matter how long she stares.

Erikel cackles, garnering everyone’s attention once again as he spreads his arms out wide. “Excellent. It seems at least some of you are familiar with my monster. Now, how this next part goes will determine how the rest of your… lives unravel.” His wicked grin connects with every single person in the hall. It somehow makes the scar that runs down the right side of his face stand out more, reminding us all of the many layers of this man we know nothing about.

Who did we let into the academy?

No, who did Sebastian let through those gates?

The whimpers and sobs of fear ebb as we wait for him to continue, but the tension and anxiety only intensify in the air around us.

With every passing second, my pulse thuds wilder in my ears. I can feel the adrenaline in my veins, body zinging with magic as I catch a glimpse of Professor Barton’s lifeless limbs splayed out on the floor at Erikel’s feet. Erikel’s fur cloak is draped over him, hiding most of the blood, but it doesn’t disguise the lifeless gray hue of his eyes.

How do I help him?

It’s not a matter of if. My magic is drawn to him, desperate to heal his soul and bring him back to the land of the living. I instinctively attempt to take a step toward him again, but my bare feet are still rooted to the floor.

Frowning down at the marble beneath my toes, I exhale slowly, trying to focus on where the magic is coming from. It’s not as easy to see it, morph it, and play with it when my adrenaline is running so high and my heart is thundering in my chest. It’s not giving me the usual ability to focus, hone in. Instead, I’m scattered and overwhelmed.

My nostrils flare in irritation at my lack of ability, but another sob parts Creed’s mother’s lips, garnering my attention once again. She can’t take her eyes off the warrior at the entrance to the hall, flanked by the Amayans—the faceless men—stoking fear into everyone’s hearts. Creed is right there with her, dripping in pain, tarnished with horror, and helpless in the face of a reality none of us believed to be possible.

Continuing around the table, I snarl when I see a smirk teasing the corners of Sebastian’s mouth. I want to slaughter him with my bare hands and never give him a chance to come back. He deserves to rot in whatever pit he falls in. Our parents stare at Erikel with apprehension in their eyes and I can’t decide if it’s mixed with surprise or anticipation of knowing what’s to follow.

Eldon stands protectively beside his mother, the frustration of also being locked in place evident on his face as his mother squeezes his hand tight. Zane stares his father down, who remains stoic and unfazed as he waits with bated breath to see what will come from Erikel’s mouth next. Brax, however, is plastered against my back. I don’t even know how or when he got there, but he’s there in all of his protective glory.

Taking a deep breath, I set my sights on Barton but speak to Brax. “I need to save him.”

“Save who?” His chest rumbles at my back, calming the rising heat of magic spreading through my veins.

“Barton.”

“It’s too much of a risk,” he grunts in response, and I shake my head as discreetly as possible, careful to make sure Erikel isn’t watching us. But he’s too busy relishing in the fear he’s injecting into the room.

“She’s right.” My gaze slowly shifts to Rhys, who doesn’t look away from Erikel either as he interjects. Zane looks at me, though, confused by the words from his father’s mouth.

“It’s too much of a risk,” Brax reiterates through clenched teeth.

“He’s too influential. Everything hangs in the balance if he dies tonight. All hope will be lost.”

“But they’ll know,” Brax spits, his anger warranted but rocketing far higher than my own, and it’s me we’re talking about.

Rhys finally takes his eyes off Erikel to find mine. Sympathy crinkles the corners of his eyes as his lips set in a grim line of disappointment.

“I will save you all from death tonight if you can complete one simple task. I want someone to step forth and heal your faithful leader, Professor Barton.” Erikel’s voice echoes around us. I know what’s coming.

Fuck.

The glint in his eyes. He knows. He fucking knows. He just doesn’t know who, exactly, can aid him.

“The buzz of a necromancer has been zinging through The Monarchy for weeks. If the fuckers from the Basilica Realm are here for something, it’s for that reason alone,” Rhys states, sending a shiver down my spine as I feel both of my parents’ eyes spin to me. I don’t pay them any mind, though. I keep my gaze locked on Rhys’s as my veins burn with the reality I’m now facing.

The undertone of Erikel’s threat is clear. Either the necromancer steps forward, or people start to die. Do I want that on my shoulders?

“You can’t heal a dead man,” someone hollers from another table, earning a thrum of murmurs of agreement along with it.

Erikel chuckles like he was waiting for such a blatant statement. We’re playing directly into his hands, just like he wants.

“I believe your statement to be true. That is, unless you’re a necromancer.”

I try not to react, but my muscles stiffen at the way the word sounds on his tongue.

“A necromancer? There is no such magic here,” someone else adds, and as much as I try to keep my chin up, it’s harder than I expect.

“You’re wrong. My little soul dancer has until the count of ten to make a decision before the next victim feels the wrath of my warrior.”

Fuck.

“Release the magic holding our feet, otherwise no one can help,” Rhys declares, turning his attention to Erikel with a sigh.

“Ah, The Monarchy finally speaks. How delightful. Aren’t you going to challenge me?”

“I don’t think that would be wise of me, do you? I think it’s clear to everyone here you have us at your mercy,” Rhys replies, cocking a brow at the villainous man who sneers with his chest puffed out, pride clinging to every inch of him.

“Ten… Nine… Eight…”

He doesn’t even bother to reply to Rhys, redirecting his attention to hunting down the necromancer. Hunting me.

“Hmm, what can we do to incentivize our ultimate healer? Maybe we should bring a victim forward for our warrior to cut down, make the situation all the more real? ” Everyone remains silent except for the sound of metal clanging along the floor as the golden warrior steps forward. “Seven… Six… Five… Hmm, maybe we should have him kill his own son. You, step forward,” he snarls at Creed, and a moment later, the weight holding my feet in place is lifted.

My eyes dart to Creed, who takes a tentative step forward, and I do the same, trying to stop him even though he’s farther around the table, but Brax’s arm around my waist stops me in my tracks.

“Let me go,” I bite under my breath as Brax pins me to him.

“Who wants to see my fearsome warrior slay his own son? Four… Three…”

“Let me go right now, Brax. He’s here for me.”

“You’re right, he’s here for you, but that doesn’t mean he gets to have you.”

My breathing hollows out as panic dances over my skin, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. “I won’t let him kill Creed.”

“Raven…” My mother’s voice cuts through the air, barely more than a whisper, but it’s enough to interrupt Brax and me.

My gaze locks with hers for the briefest of moments, an array of emotions flashing in her eyes before pain stains her pupils to almost black.

“No takers? Have it your way, then. Stand right here for me. We want to make a show of this,” Erikel instructs Creed, who looks directly at me as he follows the order. He shakes his head ever so slightly, but he must be confused as fuck if he thinks I’m just going to let this happen.

I’m not a savior. I’m not a hero, and I have no intention of being one. I’m selfish. I’m greedy. But most of all, I’m in love. With Creed. With Eldon. With Zane. With Brax. And no man, woman, nor beast is going to take what belongs to me. I will slay every other fucker here. I don’t care. Just not them.

“It’s me.” Brax’s arm tightens as the words pass my lips, but there’s no taking them back now. Not as Erikel stares at me with excitement, even through the hint of caution that flickers across his face. “I’m the necromancer,” I add, tilting my chin up as I lock eyes with him.

“Are you? Or do you not want to see this boy’s blood painted across the floor?”

Shaking out of Brax’s hold, I take a step toward the podium, moving past my parents, who keep their mouths shut as everyone’s gaze follows my every move. I don’t stop until I’m beside Creed, my hand blindly finding his through the haze.

“You’re here for me.” The words are like lead on my tongue.

“For you.” Erikel peers down at me, intrigue flashing in his dark gaze. I keep my shoulders back as I stare him down, refusing to falter under his presence. “Show me.”

I nod. “I will, but first, I want Creed and three other men from that table safely extracted from this room.”

Erikel laughs, head tilted back as the sound echoes around the space.

“You don’t get to make demands here. You do as I say, and if I find out you’re lying, I’ll kill you for wasting my time.”

My mouth opens, ready to bite back, but Creed squeezes my fingers before I can. “You know we won’t leave, Raven. It’s a lost cause.”

Erikel takes a step back, extending his arm in the direction of Barton as one of the students from Shadowgrim Institute steps forward and drags the fur cloak from his body. Blood frames Professor Barton from head to toe, a thick layer outlining his limp body, and the smell singes my nose as I cringe.

It’s too late to back out now. I either reveal myself or die for faking it. Creed releases my hand and I carefully sink to the floor in my long, black-sequined dress. The rhinestones dig into my knees, biting into my skin, but I ignore it as I move to place my hands on Barton’s back. Before I can touch him, the student flips him over and yanks the long blade from his body, splattering blood across my face and arms.

“Hey,” Zane growls, and I hear a commotion coming from the table I was seated at moments ago, but I keep my gaze focused on Barton.

Now lying on his back, his face looks gaunt and gray. I press my palm against his chest and my magic comes alive inside of me, desperately wanting to mend the broken pieces at its touch. Against my better judgment, my eyes fall closed and the purple orb inside of me tingles from the tips of my fingers right down to my toes.

Silhouettes dance across my vision and an inaudible murmur rings in my ears as my breath lodges in my throat. I feel warm, like I’m basking in a soft glow on a summer morning, before it’s gone, leaving me cold and depleted.

Blinking my eyes open, I find Barton lying beside me, the color returning to his face and his chest slowly rising and falling as his heart beats once more.

“It really is you,” Erikel murmurs in bewilderment, eyes wide as he gapes down at the professor. An evil grin spreads across his face as elation prickles among his men, both students and his battalion. A strange level of excitement and joy at my show of magic that doesn’t sit right with me somehow.

Not when I just laid myself bare, exposed myself to the enemy, and did exactly what I’ve been avoiding. But I would do it all again in a heartbeat to keep Creed safe.

Erikel crouches down beside me, gripping my chin in a painful hold as he stares deep into my eyes. The chaos and noise elevate around me, but I can’t focus on anything but the black pits of his eyes. Not a single ounce of warmth glows within him, even his fingertips are icy cold.

“Rest up, little soul dancer. I’m going to be taking everything from you.”