The man smiled—a small, sad thing that didn't reach his eyes. "My name is Thorne. And I knew your mother."
Nimara stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air heavier, as if the walls were closing in. Thorne's gray eyes held hers, steady and unflinching, but there was something in them—something she couldn't quite name. A flicker of pain, maybe. Or regret.
"My mother?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of the House. The word felt foreign on her tongue, a concept she'd only dreamed about in the darkest hours of night. "You knew her?"
Thorne nodded, his expression unreadable. "I did. She was... remarkable." He paused, his fingers drumming against the worn leather of the chair's armrest. "She had your eyes. That same intensity. Like you could see right through a person."
Nimara's fingers instinctively went to the pendant around her neck, the metal cool against her skin. She had worn it for as long as she could remember, though she had no idea where it came from. Now, for the first time, she wondered if it had been her mother's. If it meant something more than just a trinket from a forgotten past.
"You're touching it," Thorne observed quietly. "The pendant."
Nimara's hand froze. "How did you—"
"She never took it off either," he said, his voice softer now. "Not once in all the years I knew her."
"What happened to her?" she asked, her voice trembling. She gripped the pendant tighter, as if it might somehow anchor her to this moment, prevent her from drowning in the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "Why did she leave me here? In this... this fucking prison?"
Thorne hesitated, his gaze drifting to the window. The rain had started again, a soft patter against the glass that seemed to echo the rhythm of Nimara's heartbeat. For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer. Then he sighed, a sound so heavy it seemed to carry the weight of years.
"Your mother," he began slowly, each word measured and careful, "was a woman of great courage. But courage comes at a cost. She made enemies—powerful ones. The kind of enemies who don't forget. Who don't forgive." He looked back at her, his eyes now sharp with an emotion she couldn't quite read. "The kind who would hunt down a child if they thought it would serve their purpose."
Nimara's stomach twisted. She had always known, in some vague, unspoken way, that her mother hadn't abandoned her out of indifference. But hearing it now, hearing the truth spoken aloud, made it real in a way she wasn't prepared for.
"Who were they?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "These enemies."
Thorne's eyes darkened, the lines around them deepening. "The Magistrate. And others. People who would do anything to protect their secrets." His jaw clenched, a muscle working in his cheek. "Your mother... she knew too much. She saw too much. And she paid the price."
"What secrets?" Nimara pressed, leaning forward. "What did she know that was worth—" She couldn't finish the sentence, the words sticking in her throat.
Thorne shook his head. "It's not that simple. Nothing ever is with the Magistrate. They control everything in this city—every shadow, every whisper. Your mother discovered something they'd kept hidden for centuries. Something that could change everything."
Nimara's breath caught in her throat. "Is she... is she dead?"
Thorne didn't answer right away. His gaze fell to his hands, weathered and scarred from years of fighting. His silence was answer enough.
The room seemed to spin around her, the walls closing in until she could barely breathe. She had always wondered, always hoped, that one day her mother would come back for her. That she would walk through the doors of the House of the Unwanted and take her away from this place. But now... now she knew that would never happen.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, her voice cracking as she fought back tears. "Why now? After all these fucking years in this place, why come now?"
Thorne leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. The movement caused his coat to shift, revealing the hilt of a sword strapped to his side. "Because you're in danger, Nimara. The same people who came after your mother... they're coming for you."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt the blood drain from her face, her hands trembling at her sides. "Me? Why me? I don't know anything. I'm just—"
"You're her daughter," Thorne interrupted, his voice firm. "And that's enough for them." He reached out as if to take her hand, then seemed to think better of it. "But that's not the only reason. The pendant you wear—it's not just jewelry. It's a key."
"A key?" Nimara repeated, her fingers once again finding the cool metal at her throat. "A key to what?"
"To the truth," Thorne said, his eyes fixed on hers. "To everything your mother died to protect."
Nimara stared at him, trying to process his words. A thousand questions swirled in her mind, each one more urgent than the last. But before she could ask any of them, a sharp whirring sound cut through the tension.
Beeps, her mechanical spider, leapt from her shoulder with surprising speed, its tiny body glowing with an unnatural crimson light Nimara had never seen before. Its eight delicate legs extended fully, revealing retractable claws she hadn't built into its design.
"What the—" Thorne began, reaching for his weapon.
But Beeps was faster. The little automaton unleashed a burst of energy—a pulse of concentrated force that Nimara hadn't programmed into it. Thorne barely had time to react before the blast hit him square in the chest, sending him flying backward into the study. He crashed into the desk, papers scattering as he slumped to the floor, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Nimara's eyes widened in shock. "Beeps! What the fuck did you do?!" She stared at her creation, uncomprehending. The little mechanical spider had been her companion for years, a simple automaton she'd built from scrap parts. It wasn't capable of this—of violence, of protecting her.
The automaton scurried back to her, its glowing eyes flickering with what almost seemed like concern, its metal body clicking against the wooden floor. Before she could process what had just happened, the door burst open, and Fearyn came running in, her violet eyes wide with panic, strands of her silver hair plastered to her sweat-slicked forehead. Jace and Darian were right behind her, their faces tense, weapons drawn.
"We need to go. Now," Fearyn said, her voice trembling but urgent. She glanced at Thorne's unconscious form, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Shit. Is he dead?"
"I—I don't think so," Nimara stammered, still reeling from Beeps' sudden attack. "He knew my mom. He has answers! What the hell is going on?"
Jace stepped forward, his hand gripping her shoulder firmly. His dark eyes, usually playful, were now deadly serious. A knife gleamed in his other hand, held with the easy confidence of someone who knew how to use it. "He's with the Magistrate, Nim. I saw the mark on his wrist when his sleeve rode up. He's one of them."
Nimara's stomach dropped. The Magistrate. The same people Thorne had just warned her about. Was this a trap? Had he been sent to lure her out? Her thoughts were a whirlwind, but there was no time to sort through them.
"How do you even know he's with the Magistrate?" she demanded, her voice sharp and trembling with anger. "What mark on his wrist? What are you talking about?" She looked from Jace to Fearyn to Darian, searching their faces for answers. "And why are you all suddenly here? Were you fucking spying on me?"
Jace's jaw tightened, a muscle working beneath his skin. "It's a brand—a snake coiled around a dagger. That's the Magistrate's symbol. Everyone in the lower quarter knows it." His eyes darted to the window, where shadows moved across the rain-streaked glass. "He's one of them, Nim. I don't know why he's here, but it's not to help you."
"We've been watching him for days," Darian added, his voice softer than Jace's but no less urgent. The tall, lanky boy adjusted his glasses, his hands steady despite the tension in the room. "Ever since he started asking questions about you in the market."
Nimara shook her head, her fingers curling into fists. "That doesn't make sense! He said he knew my mother. He said she was in danger—that I'm in danger. Why would he lie about that?"
Fearyn stepped forward, her violet eyes flickering with unease. Strange energy crackled around her fingertips, casting eerie shadows across her face. "Maybe he wasn't lying about your mother. Maybe that's how they're luring you in." She glanced at Thorne's still form, her expression hardening. "But Nim, think about it—why would someone from the Magistrate come here, to the House of the Unwanted, unless they were looking for something? Or someone?"
Nimara's stomach churned. She wanted to argue, to scream that they were wrong, but the pieces were starting to fit together in a way she didn't like. Thorne's sudden appearance. His cryptic warnings. The way Beeps had reacted, as if it sensed something she couldn't.
"And what about Beeps?" she snapped, her voice rising as she gestured to the small mechanical spider now perched on her shoulder. Its eyes had returned to their normal blue glow, but it seemed... different. Alert. "Since when does it just attack people? Since when does it have energy blasts? I built it, and I sure as hell didn't give it that!"
Darian, who had been scanning the room, his eyes alert behind his glasses, spoke up again, his voice calm but urgent. "Something's going on, Nim. Something bigger than us. Beeps isn't the only thing acting weird." He nodded toward Fearyn, whose hands were still flickering with that strange energy. "Fearyn's powers—they've been... unstable. Like they're reacting to something. And now the city guards are outside. This isn't a coincidence."
Nimara turned to Fearyn, her anger giving way to confusion. The girl had always had a strange affinity for energy—small tricks, like lighting candles with a touch or creating tiny sparks between her fingers. But this... this was different. The power rolling off her now was palpable, filling the room with a strange, electric tension.
"What's he talking about?" Nimara demanded. "What's going on with your powers?"
Fearyn hesitated, her hands trembling as faint sparks of violet energy danced around her fingertips. She stared at them as if they belonged to someone else. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's like... like there's something in the air. Something pulling at me. I can't control it like I used to." She looked up, her eyes meeting Nimara's. "And when Beeps attacked Thorne, it felt like... like something shifted. Like the air itself changed."
"Changed how?" Nimara pressed, stepping closer.
"Like a door opening," Fearyn said, struggling to find the words. "Like something waking up." She shook her head, frustrated. "I can't explain it better than that."
Nimara stared at her, her mind racing. None of this made sense. Beeps. Fearyn's powers. Thorne's sudden appearance. The Magistrate. It was all connected, but she couldn't see how.
Outside, the sound of boots on cobblestones grew louder, accompanied by the harsh shouts of city guards. Metal clashed against metal as weapons were drawn. The House of the Unwanted was surrounded.
"We need to move," Jace said, his voice low and urgent. He crossed to the window, peering through the rain-streaked glass. "Shit. There are at least twenty guards out there. They've got pulse rifles." He turned back to the others, his face grim. "Now."
Darian slipped to Nimara's side, a small pack in his hands. "I grabbed some of your things," he said, pressing it into her arms. "Tools, spare parts for Beeps. That notebook you're always scribbling in."
Nimara clutched the pack, momentarily speechless. She looked at her friends, their faces etched with fear and determination. Beeps clung to her shoulder, its tiny body vibrating with urgency. She didn't have all the answers, but one thing was clear: staying here wasn't an option.
"Alright," she said, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest. She cast one last glance at Thorne's unconscious form, torn between the desire for answers and the urgent need to escape. "Let's go."
"Not that way," Jace said as she turned toward the door. He gestured to the far wall. "They'll have the main entrances covered."
"Then how—"
"Trust me," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "Please."
After a moment's hesitation, Nimara nodded. "Lead the way."
Nimara followed Fearyn and the others upstairs, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear. The familiar corridors of the House—once so mundane, so predictably bleak—now seemed filled with shadows that moved when she wasn't looking. Every creak of the old building sent her heart racing.
Just before they reached the attic, Jace pressed a brick on the wall—a specific one, as if he'd done this before—and a hidden door slid open with a soft grinding sound, revealing a narrow passage leading upward. Nimara's eyes widened, shock and betrayal washing over her in equal measure.
"What the fuck?" she hissed, her voice a mix of anger and disbelief. "Since when is this here? How long have you known about this?"
Fearyn grabbed her arm, her fingers leaving trails of static electricity that tingled against Nimara's skin. "We need to go," she said, her voice urgent. She pointed back down the stairs, where the sound of heavy boots and shouted orders grew louder. A man's voice barked commands—precise, cold. Professional. "The guards are coming."
"That doesn't answer my question," Nimara snapped, but she allowed herself to be pulled toward the passage. The alternative was worse.
Darian ducked into the passage first, his lanky frame surprisingly agile as he navigated the narrow space. Fearyn followed, the strange energy around her illuminating the dark passage with an eerie violet glow. Nimara was next, Beeps clinging to her shoulder, its tiny mechanical legs digging into her shirt. Jace entered last, sliding the hidden door shut behind them just as the first guard reached the top of the stairs.
For a moment, they stood in tense silence, listening to the muffled sounds of the guards searching the floor below. Then a shout, followed by the sound of gunfire. The bullets ricocheted off the heavy stone wall that concealed them, sending fine dust raining down on their heads.
"Move!" Jace barked, his voice tight with urgency. He pushed past Nimara, taking the lead up the narrow, winding stairs. "They'll figure out there's a passage soon enough."
Nimara stumbled after him, her heart pounding in her chest. The stairs were steep and uneven, worn smooth by years of use. Use by whom? How long had this passage been here? And how long had her friends known about it?
They burst onto the roof, the cold night air hitting them like a slap. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still heavy with clouds, the city below a sea of flickering lights and shadows. The distant hum of hovering transports mixed with the wail of alarms as the city responded to whatever alert the guards had triggered.
Jace ran to the edge of the roof, pulling a grappling gun from his belt. He aimed it at the next building over and fired. The hook shot across the gap, embedding itself in the opposite roof with a solid thunk.
Nimara's eyes narrowed as recognition dawned. "That's mine," she snapped, her voice sharp with accusation. The grappling gun had been a pet project, something she'd been working on for months. It had disappeared from her workshop a week ago. "You were the one who stole it!"
Jace didn't look at her, his focus on securing the line, testing it with a sharp tug. "Yeah, I borrowed it. Now's not the time, Nim."
"Then when is the time?" she shot back, her frustration boiling over. She gestured wildly, encompassing the roof, the city, the situation they found themselves in. "What the hell is going on? Why are the guards after us? Why me? And since when do you know about secret passages and grappling guns and—" She broke off, a realization hitting her. "Have you been lying to me this whole time? All of you?"
Jace finished securing the line, his movements efficient and practiced. Too practiced. "I never lied about caring about you, Nim," he said, his voice softer now. "None of us did. But the rest..." He shook his head. "It's complicated."
"Uncomplicate it," she demanded.
Before Jace could respond, Fearyn doubled over suddenly, a strangled cry escaping her lips. Her hands glowed with an unstable, crackling energy, the air around her shimmering like heat waves. The rooftop beneath her feet began to crack, small fissures spreading outward like a spiderweb.
She stared at her hands, her violet eyes wide with terror. "What the fuck is going on?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "It feels like I'm being torn apart."
Jace glanced at her, his expression grim. "Fearyn, can you control it? Just for a bit longer? We need to get across."
"I—I don't know," she stammered, her voice breaking as she struggled to contain the power coursing through her. Sweat beaded on her forehead, trickling down her pale face. "It's like it's alive. Like it's fighting me."
Nimara stared at her, her anger momentarily forgotten. She'd known Fearyn for years—the quiet girl who kept to herself, who hid her strange abilities from the caretakers of the House. But this... this was something else entirely.
"Fearyn, what's happening to you?"
Before Fearyn could answer, the door to the roof burst open with a crash, and guards poured out, their weapons raised. They wore the black and silver uniforms of the Magistrate's personal forces, their faces hidden behind reflective visors.
"Halt!" one of them shouted, his voice electronically distorted. "By order of the Magistrate, surrender the girl and the artifact!"
Jace grabbed Nimara's arm, his grip firm. "We need to go. Now."
Nimara yanked her arm free, her eyes blazing. "Not until someone tells me what the hell is going on! Why are they after us? Why is Fearyn's power going crazy? And why the fuck do you have my grappling gun?"
"Because I've been planning this escape for months!" Jace hissed, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Because I knew they'd come for you eventually. Just like they came for your mother."
Nimara froze. "What do you know about my mother?"
Jace's jaw tightened, regret flashing across his face. "More than I should. More than I wanted to." He ran a hand through his dark hair, his eyes never leaving the advancing guards. "Nim, I get it. You're pissed. You're confused. But if we don't move right now, we're dead. All of us. So can you save the questions for later and just trust me?"
Nimara opened her mouth to argue, but another burst of gunfire cut her off. The guards were advancing, their shouts growing louder. Beeps let out a high-pitched whir, its glowing eyes fixed on the approaching threat.
"Down!" Darian shouted, pulling Nimara to the ground as a bullet whistled over their heads. It struck the brick chimney behind them, sending fragments flying.
Fearyn let out another cry, the energy around her hands flaring brighter, casting long shadows across the roof. "I can't hold it back!" she gasped, her voice strained. The air around her crackled with electricity, raising the hair on Nimara's arms. "It's too much!"
Jace grabbed the grappling line, his eyes locking with Nimara's. "We're out of time. Go."
Nimara hesitated for a split second, torn between the desperate need for answers and the very real threat of the advancing guards. Then she grabbed the line, her hands gripping the rough cord. She swung across the gap to the next roof, the wind whipping her hair as the city blurred beneath her.
She landed hard on the other side, the impact jarring her bones. Darian followed, his landing more graceful than she expected. He turned immediately, holding out his hands for Fearyn.
Fearyn hesitated at the edge, her body still enveloped in that strange, crackling energy. "I don't know if I can—"
"You can," Darian called, his voice steady despite the urgency of their situation. "Just focus on me. Not the power. Me."
Fearyn took a deep breath, then grabbed the line. She swung across, the energy around her causing the rope to smoke and fray. She landed beside Darian, who caught her as she stumbled.
"Jace!" Darian shouted. "Come on!"
Jace was backing away from the guards, his knife in one hand, the other still holding the grappling gun. He waited until the last possible moment, then fired again, the hook embedding in the wall beside them. He cut the first line just as the guards reached the edge, sending one who'd tried to follow them plummeting into the alley below.
Jace swung across, his body a silhouette against the city lights. He landed beside them, quickly retrieving and retracting the hook. "Move," he said, already turning toward the door that led into the building they now stood on. "They'll find another way across."
They descended through the building—an abandoned apartment complex, its walls covered in graffiti, the air thick with dust and decay. Nimara followed Jace, her mind racing with questions but her instincts telling her now wasn't the time. They needed distance. Safety. Then answers.
They emerged onto the street, the city eerily quiet around them. The usual hum of life had been replaced by an oppressive silence, broken only by the distant wail of alarms and the occasional hum of a patrol transport overhead.
Fearyn stumbled, her hands glowing brighter as the energy around her grew more unstable. She dropped to her knees, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The pavement beneath her began to crack, small fissures spreading outward.
"I can't hold it back," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It's too much. It's like it's burning through me."
Nimara skidded to a stop, turning back to her. "Fearyn, get up! We can't stop here!"
Fearyn shook her head, her violet eyes wide with pain and fear. "I can't, Nim. I can't control it. It's like it's burning me from the inside." She looked up, tears streaming down her face. "You need to go. Before I hurt you."
Jace stepped forward, his voice firm but urgent. "Fearyn, you have to try. We can't let them catch us. You know what they'll do."
Darian knelt beside her, his hands hovering uncertainly. "What can we do? How do we help her?"
Before anyone could answer, a low, mocking laugh cut through the silence. Nimara spun around, her heart pounding as a figure stepped out of the shadows at the end of the street. He was tall, his face obscured by a hood, but his presence was suffocating, filling the air with a sense of dread that made it hard to breathe. The air around him seemed to warp, as if reality itself bent to his will.
"Well, well," the figure said, his voice smooth and cold as ice. "What have we here? A little family reunion? How touching."
Fearyn's power flared violently, the energy around her crackling like a storm. She let out a scream, her hands clutching her head as if trying to hold herself together. The ground beneath her cracked and splintered, chunks of pavement lifting into the air, suspended by her power.
The figure laughed again, the sound like broken glass. "Still can't control it, I see. How disappointing." He took a step closer, his movements sinuous and predatory. "But then, you always were the weakest of my children."
Jace stepped forward, placing himself between the figure and the others. His knife gleamed in the dim light, a pitiful defense against whatever power this stranger wielded. "Leave her alone, Malakar."
The name hung in the air like a curse. Malakar. Nimara had never heard it before, but the way Jace said it sent a chill down her spine.
Malakar tilted his head, his hood shifting just enough to reveal a cruel smile. His eyes gleamed in the darkness, unnaturally bright. "Ah, Jace. Still playing the hero, I see. How quaint." He chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. "And how utterly futile."
Fearyn screamed again, the energy around her lashing out like a wild animal. A bolt of lightning shot from her hands, striking Malakar square in the chest. But instead of being thrown back, he absorbed it, the energy dissipating into nothingness.
He chuckled, taking another step closer. "Is that all you've got, my dear daughter? I expected more from you after all this time."
Nimara's eyes widened. Daughter? She turned to Fearyn, her mind racing. "Fearyn, what is he talking about?"
Fearyn shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I don't know! I don't know!" But there was something in her voice—a tremor of recognition, of buried memory. She was afraid, but not just of Malakar. Of herself.
Malakar's laughter grew louder, the sound echoing through the empty street. "Oh, Fearyn. Always so dramatic." He spread his arms wide, his cloak billowing around him like wings. "You can't run from me. You can't run from what you are."
Jace stepped in front of Fearyn, his voice low and dangerous. "Stay back, Malakar. I'm not letting you take her."
"And how do you plan to stop me, boy?" Malakar asked, his voice dripping with condescension. "With your fists? Your bravado? That little toy you call a weapon?" He shook his head, his smile widening to reveal teeth that seemed too sharp, too numerous. "You're nothing but a nuisance. A gnat buzzing around my head. And like a gnat, you'll be crushed."
Nimara felt Beeps move on her shoulder, the little automaton hissing softly. She glanced down, surprised by the sound. Beeps had never made a noise like that before. Its glowing eyes were fixed on Malakar, its tiny body tense and vibrating with an emotion Nimara couldn't name. Recognition? Hatred?
Malakar's gaze shifted to Beeps, his smile faltering for the first time. "What's this? A little toy? How adorable."
Beeps hissed again, louder this time, and leapt from Nimara's shoulder. It landed on the ground in front of Malakar, its body glowing brighter as it let out a high-pitched whir that sounded almost like a challenge.
Nimara's heart raced. "Beeps, no!"
But the little automaton didn't listen. It charged at Malakar, its tiny legs moving faster than Nimara had ever seen, a blur of motion across the cracked pavement. Malakar raised a hand, his expression amused but wary. "Pathetic."
He flicked his wrist, and Beeps was thrown back, slamming into the wall with a sickening crunch of metal and circuits. Nimara's breath caught in her throat, a physical pain lancing through her chest. "Beeps!"
Malakar chuckled, his attention returning to Fearyn. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes. You, coming home."
"I'm not going anywhere with you," Fearyn spat, struggling to her feet. Her voice was strained but determined. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know who you are. But I'd rather die than go with you."
Malakar's smile widened. "That can be arranged, my dear. But first..." He turned his gaze to Nimara, his eyes glittering with malice. "First, I'll take that pretty little trinket around your neck."
Nimara's hand went to her pendant, her fingers closing around it protectively. "Go to hell."
"Such spirit," Malakar said with a laugh. "Just like your mother." He took another step forward, his hand outstretched. "Give me the pendant, girl, and maybe I'll let your friends live."
Fearyn screamed, the energy around her exploding in a burst of light that blinded Nimara momentarily. "Leave her alone!"
The ground shook, the air crackling with power. Nimara stumbled back, her mind racing. She didn't understand what was happening, but one thing was clear: they were in way over their heads.
Fearyn stood up slowly, her eyes glowing a deep, unnatural purple. The ground beneath her cracked and splintered as she began to float slightly above it, her hair whipping around her face like a storm. She raised her hand, her voice trembling with rage and power.
"Fuck you," she hissed, her words echoing with an otherworldly resonance that made the hair on Nimara's arms stand on end.
With a scream that seemed to tear at the fabric of reality itself, Fearyn unleashed a massive energy blast, the force of it tearing through the air like a tidal wave. Malakar raised his hands, a shield of dark energy forming just in time to block the attack. But even he couldn't hold it completely. The sheer force of Fearyn's power pushed him back, his boots scraping against the ground as he struggled to maintain his footing.
"Now that's more like it," Malakar growled, his voice strained but still mocking. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down into eyes that now glowed with the same unnatural purple as Fearyn's. "That's my daughter. That's my blood." He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "But you're still not strong enough."
With a sudden burst of energy that sent shockwaves through the street, he broke through Fearyn's blast, sliding past the beam with inhuman speed. Jace lunged forward, his dagger flashing in the dim light, aiming for Malakar's throat.
But Malakar moved faster than any human should be able to. With a swift, almost casual motion, he sidestepped Jace's attack and slashed him across the abdomen with claws that hadn't been there a moment before. The wound was deep, blood pouring from it in a dark flood that gleamed almost black in the strange light.
Jace dropped to his knees, his face pale with shock, his hand going to the wound as if he couldn't quite believe it was there. Darian screamed, rushing to his side. "No! No, no, no! Jace, stay with me! Come on, stay with me!"
Nimara stood frozen, her mind racing but her body refusing to move. She felt helpless, useless, as chaos unfolded around her. Beeps lay motionless against the wall, its normally bright eyes dim and flickering. Jace was bleeding out, his life pooling on the ground beneath him. And Fearyn—
Malakar's hand closed around Fearyn's throat, lifting her off the ground as if she weighed nothing. The energy around her sputtered and died, her power no match for his. She choked, her glowing eyes dimming as she struggled against his grip, her feet kicking uselessly in the air.
"Did you really think you could stand against me?" Malakar hissed, his face inches from hers. "Me? The one who gave you life? The one who made you what you are?"
"You will die for this," Fearyn gasped, her voice barely audible as she clawed at his hand. "I will kill you myself."
Darian's cries grew more desperate as he tried to stop the bleeding, his hands pressing against Jace's wound. Blood seeped between his fingers, too much blood. "Please, Jace, don't do this. Don't leave me. Come on, stay with me!"
Malakar smirked, his grip tightening on Fearyn's throat. "Such a shame. You could have been magnificent. But you're just like your mother—weak. Sentimental." He shook his head, disappointment evident in his glowing eyes. "And now you'll die like her. Alone and forgotten."
Nimara's hand went to her pendant again, her mind racing. If Malakar wanted it, there had to be a reason. It had to be important. Maybe even powerful. But how? It was just a piece of metal, a trinket she'd had for as long as she could remember.
Before she could make a decision, a strange hum filled the air
Before he could say more, a glowing blade erupted from his chest, the tip dripping with dark blood. Malakar's eyes widened in shock as he dropped Fearyn, his hand going to the wound. Behind him stood a massive, unknown creature—a demonic figure with glowing eyes and a blade that pulsed with eerie light.
The creature yanked the sword free, and Malakar staggered forward, blood spilling from his mouth. He turned, his expression a mix of rage and disbelief. "What... are you?" he rasped.
The creature's voice was deep and guttural, like the growl of a beast. "Death."
With that, the creature vanished, taking Malakar with him in a swirl of shadows and light. The street fell silent, the only sounds the ragged breathing of the survivors and Darian's desperate pleas.
Fearyn collapsed to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. Nimara finally snapped out of her daze, rushing to her side. "Fearyn! Are you okay?"
Fearyn nodded weakly, her eyes still glowing faintly. "I'm... I'm fine. But Jace—"
Darian's voice broke as he cradled Jace's head in his lap. "He's not breathing. He's not breathing!"
Nimara's heart sank. She turned to Jace, her hands trembling as she reached for him. "No. No, no, no. Jace, come on. Don't do this."
Fearyn crawled over, her hands glowing faintly as she placed them over Jace's wound. "I... I can try to heal him. But I don't know if I can—"
"Do it!" Darian shouted, his voice cracking. "Please, Fearyn. Just try."
Fearyn closed her eyes, her hands trembling as she focused. The glow around her hands intensified, but it was unstable, flickering like a dying flame. "I'm not strong enough," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I can't—"
Before she could finish, a faint whirring sound broke the silence. Nimara turned, her breath catching in her throat. Beeps, battered and broken, was dragging itself across the ground toward them. Its glowing eyes flickered weakly, but it moved with determination.
"Beeps," Nimara whispered, her voice breaking. "You're alive."
The little automaton reached Jace's side, its body trembling as it extended a tiny, mechanical leg. A faint pulse of energy emanated from it, merging with Fearyn's unstable glow. The combined energy surged, stabilizing as it flowed into Jace's wound.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then Jace gasped, his body jerking as he took a ragged breath. Darian let out a sob of relief, clutching Jace tightly. "You're okay. You're okay."
Fearyn slumped back, exhausted but relieved. Nimara stared at Beeps, her heart swelling with gratitude. "You did it," she whispered. "You saved him."
Beeps let out a faint whir, its glowing eyes dimming as it collapsed onto the ground. Nimara scooped it up gently, cradling it in her hands. "You're going to be okay too," she said, her voice trembling. "I'll fix you. I promise."
The group sat there in the aftermath, the weight of what had just happened settling over them. They had survived, but at a cost. And as the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, Nimara couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.