Lysandra didn't hesitate.
She reached for the mark.
The moment her fingers brushed it, something ancient surged inside her. It wasn't just power—it was a voice, a whisper curling around her bones, seeping into her veins like ink.
You call upon me so soon?
The god's voice slithered through her mind. Amused. Expectant.
Lysandra barely had time to react before her body lurched forward, moving on instinct she didn't fully understand.
The shadows responded.
Darkness rippled outward from her feet, coiling like living tendrils. The hunters barely had time to react before they were engulfed—their movements slowed, their weapons tangled in the inky black mass.
Jael spun toward her, golden eyes flashing.
"What—"
Lysandra didn't let them finish.
She willed the shadows forward.
The darkness lashed out, knocking Jael's blade aside. The prince took the opening and struck—his sword cutting through the air, forcing Jael back.
The other hunters struggled, their weapons useless against the shifting darkness. They were trapped.
Lysandra could end it right here.
The power pulsed through her, urging her to do it.
They are in your way. You need only say the word.
The god's whisper was louder now, coaxing. Encouraging.
Lysandra's breath came fast. The power was intoxicating, all-consuming.
She could feel Jael straining against the shadows, their strength barely holding. The prince was watching her now—not with fear, but with something like understanding.
"Lysandra."
His voice cut through the haze.
She hesitated.
And in that single moment, Jael's form blurred—moving too fast for the eye to track.
The next thing she knew, a knife was at her throat.
The Price of Power
Lysandra froze.
The shadows faltered for just a second—but it was enough.
Jael's grip tightened. "You don't know what you're playing with," they murmured against her ear.
Lysandra swallowed hard. The power still surged inside her, waiting for her command. But if she moved—if she used it again—Jael could end her before she had the chance.
The prince stilled, his golden eyes flashing with fury. "Let her go."
Jael smiled—a slow, knowing thing. "Surrender, and I will."
The prince's jaw clenched. Lysandra could see it—the war in his mind.
He wouldn't. He couldn't.
The moment he surrendered, Jael would kill him.
Jael leaned in slightly. "You think you can change fate, girl?" Their voice was low. Almost pitying. "You think you can save him?"
Lysandra's pulse pounded.
Jael wasn't wrong.
The curse couldn't be broken. She knew that now.
But she also knew something else.
Fate wasn't unshakable. It could be bent. Challenged.
And she would not let him die here.
Lysandra exhaled.
Then, before Jael could react, she whispered a single word to the god.
"Take."
The shadows obeyed.
A violent surge of power exploded outward, knocking Jael off her. The hunters cried out as the darkness swallowed them whole.
And then—
Silence.
The hunters were gone.
Not dead. But somewhere else. Somewhere beyond this realm.
Lysandra didn't know where.
She didn't want to know.
Her vision blurred, exhaustion crashing into her like a wave. Her knees buckled.
Strong arms caught her before she hit the ground.
The prince.
"Lysandra—"
"I'm fine," she mumbled, though it was a lie.
Her mark burned.
The god was silent now, but she could still feel his satisfaction.
She had given him something.
And she had a terrible feeling he would come to collect.