The glass shattered before she even heard it.
Then someone screamed sharp and close and Jasmine turned just in time to see something black, wrong, slam into one of the guests. A woman. She couldn't even remember her name.
The woman shriveled. Dried up in seconds.
And fell.
Dead.
Just like that.
Jasmine froze.
Everything froze.
It was like the whole hallway was holding its breath. She could hear her own heart beating too loud. The floor felt too far away.
Then the woman hit the ground and everything snapped.
The screams came again, this time like they meant it. Like everyone had just realized this was real. Jasmine felt someone grab her arm, shove past her, she couldn't tell.
The black smoke thing that thing it moved again, darting toward them.
Mr Grey stepped in. Grabbed a broken that seems to raise a door off the floor, like gravity wasnt there for a reason, like it weighed nothing, and shoved it between them and the monster.
"Back! GO BACK NOW!" His voice was hard, fierce.
She stumbled backward with the others, half-dragged by noise and panic.
She couldn't think. She couldn't see. Faces blurred together, screams mixed into one long howl. There was blood in her ears. She didn't know who was where anymore.
Micah was near her. The the next seconds he wasn't.
He fell or tripped. She didn't see how just saw him not there anymore. Saw the shield her uncle had built fall apart. Saw Micah scrambling on the floor—
Saw the smoke thing watching.
And smiling.
It didn't have a face. But it was smiling. She could feel it.
It liked this.
Mrs Morrigan moved fast. Too fast. Her aunt stepped in like it was nothing, like it was normal, like this was what moms and aunts were supposed to do. She pulled Micah up and pushed him towards them.
Jasmine's throat closed.
She reached for her. "Aunt—Aunt, come on! Come on, it's coming!"
But her aunt wasn't coming. She knew.
She just looked at them. Looked up at Jasmine and her husband and Micah.
Then she looked down the hallway.
Then back at them.
And with her lips only—
"Go."
The black wisp struck her before Jasmine could even process it.
It hit her aunt like a storm. Flung her across the room like she was nothing. Like she weighed air.
Jasmine screamed.
But not fast enough.
By the time her voice cracked open, her aunt was already gone.
What was left was barely a shape. Skin that wasn't skin. Ash and bone and something that use to be her aunt blue gown, the one she had happily worn for the ball, the one she had think fitted her perfectly enough to turn heads.
"LENA!!"
"MOM!"
"AUNT!"
Jasmine didn't know who screamed what maybe all of them did. She just knew she couldn't breathe.
Her knees hit the floor. Or they almost did, because she couldn't fell them. Her legs were just gone. She shook.
"No," she breathed. "No, no, no—"
"Come on!" Mr. Grey shouted, voice rough, breaking. He looked like someone had ripped his ribs open. But he still stood. Still moved. Still grabbed her hand and pulled.
"We move now."
He couldn't look back. He couldn't cry.
Not yet.
So Jasmine let herself be dragged.
And she didn't look back either.
It wasn't even that long ago.
Maybe three days or four days ago, Jasmine wasn't sure anymore. Time had gone weird, slippery. Like everything before the chaos didn't matter.
But she remembered the kitchen.
The light was soft, orange through the windows. Her aunt was standing by the cylinder, humming something Jasmine didn't recognize. She was making nothing fancy just stew. Something with carrots, maybe too much garlic, and dumplings shaped weird because Aunt Lena refused to follow recipes. "The food knows what it wants to be," she always said.
Micah had been asleep on the couch, one leg hanging off, mouth open just right after his favorite show had just ended.
Jasmine sat on the counter, feet kicking the cupboard below. The warmth in that room… it was home. Not perfect. Not quiet. But safe.
She remembered Mrs Morrigan turning and wiping her hands on a dish towel, then flicking her with it like she always did when Jasmine made a face about the smell.
"Don't you dare knock my cooking," she teased, eyebrow arched, aunt Lena was most time strict but above it all she was always the best.
"I didn't say anything!"
"You thought it loudly," she grinned.
Jasmine had rolled her eyes, but laughed. "You always know what I'm thinking."
Mrs Morrigan leaned her elbows on the counter beside her, looking tired but... content. Her voice dropped a little softer.
"You uncle is running late tonight, it just me you and Micah"
Jasmine didn't say anything.
Mrs Morrigan reached over and gently fixed a strand of hair from Jasmine's face.
"You're not alone, Minnie." She used one of Micah's favorite nickname for her. "Not while I'm here."
That part hit different now. The memory wrapped around her throat.
Not while I'm here.
And now she wasn't.
Draven froze he could hear screams of fear resounding everywhere. He'd just felt the quake, like the castle itself had flinched. Something underneath him had shifted.
He didn't know what it was.
Didn't care.
But he needed to know.
He was turning the corner when a blur crashed into him almost knocked him straight to the floor.
Liliana.
Her hair Wild. Eyes like a hunted animal, she looked back over her shoulder before even checking him. Behind her came her father, storming in like thunder, the other chiefs right behind, faces drawn and sour. Like they'd just seen their own ends and were pissed about it.
"Where's His Majesty?" Lord Raith barked.
Draven didn't answer. Didn't even look at him. Just kept walking like the man was air.
"I believe I'm speaking to you," Raith snapped again, sharp like he wanted it to sting.
Draven stopped.
He turned his head slightly and Slowly, like Raith had just said something idiotic and not worth responding to.
"Am I supposed to know that?" he said, voice flat and dry. "You were with him. Not me."
Raith's jaw tightened. "You—"
"Enough,"the Sultan of the earth bearer cut in—voice like rock grinding against itself. "This isn't the time, we need shelter. Now, figure the rest out later. Unless you want to be ripped apart mid-debate."
That's when the sound hit.
A screech like metal on tile, long and slow. Scraping, tearing and mocking.
Draven's eyes narrowed. The others tensed like deer catching the scent of smoke, It was coming closer.
Too slow to be in a rush. Too loud to care.
Whatever it was it wanted them to hear it coming. Liliana backed up a step. Her shoulders bumped his.
She was trembling.
Draven didn't move.
Didn't blink.
He just listened.
To the sound.
To the panic.
To the silence between breaths.
Then he exhaled once, slow.
"It's hunting."
No one responded.
They all knew he was right.
The sound got louder.
It scraped along the edges of the walls, dragging behind the high whines of panic still echoing from deeper in the castle. The others stiffened.
Liliana looked like she might shatter if someone so much as brushed past her.
Draven stayed still, Cold and Quiet, as if this was a sick nightmare they were not going to wake up from.
He didn't blink. Didn't even flinch.
Sultan Harim motioned them forward, gesturing to an old corridor on the left that led to the underground passages. "We need to Move very quickly."
Draven followed, but not because he was told to. He'd already decided that direction was the smartest option thick stone, no windows, one way in or out. Defensible and Shadowed.
Useful.
The others rushed ahead, coats flaring, boots echoing across the floor too loud. Too easy to follow.
Liliana kept looking over her shoulder, eyes darting like prey that had already been seen.
Draven didn't rush.
He walked with measured steps, almost lazy. His expression unreadable.
He listened to the creature behind them the scrape-screech of it, the awful wet drag that followed, like something half-melted across the tile. Whatever it was, it was enjoying this.
Feeding on it.
They reached a tight stairwell. Draven let them go ahead, took one last glance back.
A shadow flickered down the hall they'd come from. Thin. Shifting. Too fluid to be human. Too intentional to be animal.
He tilted his head.
Fascinating.
Then turned and descended after the others. When they reached the hidden chamber below, the temperature dropped.
The room was dark, except for a few half-lit crystals embedded in the wall, which was pale blue, it flickered faintly. Safe enough, for now.
Lord Raith paced like a trapped dog. "This is unacceptable," he spat. "He should've warned us."
"He knew less than us, we are all stuck." Lady Maevera said quietly, hugging her arms.
Draven leaned against the wall, arms folded. "Or he knew," he said, voice flat, "and didn't think you needed to."
Lord Raith turned on him. "Watch your mouth, bo—"
Draven's eyes were ice. "If you're going to waste time throwing tantrums, find a quieter corner to do it."
Silence.
Sultan Harim cleared his throat. "Enough. We need to regroup and find the Emperor and find whoever's left."
Draven's gaze swept across the room his eyes Calculating.
In his head, he was already sorting possibilities. Number of exits. Who'd survive if something broke in. Who'd slow him down.He didn't care about their politics.
He cared about surviving. He'd been through worse. Maybe not louder. But worse.
Liliana glanced over at him. Her lips parted, like she wanted to say something.
He looked away.
The silence didn't last long, because Liliana broke it. She crossed her arms, still standing like she owned the room, even though her hands had been shaking minutes ago. Her chin tilted high. She like Pretended like she wasn't seconds from screaming not long ago.
"You don't have to be so smug," she said to Draven, her voice sharp. "You act like you're above all this."
He didn't respond.
She took that as invitation to keep going and poking at him, it was a once in a lifetime chance, no body care's about title now, not when all is a mess.
"Like you're so composed," she sneered. "We're being hunted by something that melts people, but no Draven's fine, Draven's special, right? Nothing ever touches you."
He looked at her. Not like how most people looked at her with awe, or praises or desire. He looked at her like she was noise, like a pest that refuse to hold it tongue.
"You done?" he asked, voice flat.
Liliana scoffed. "I'm just saying maybe if you spent less time brooding in corners and more time being useful, we'd have a better chance."
Draven straightened from the wall. Not quickly. Just enough to make her nerves pull tighter.
"I'm still alive," he said. "Which is more than I can say for most people who've stood in your shadow."
She opened her mouth, but her father held up a hand tired, am filled with warning.
"Liliana," Lord Raith muttered, "not now."
"No, let her speak," Draven said, his voice like glass now. "It's cute. The whole 'untouchable fire princess with nothing to prove' act. She's putting on a show. For who, though? There's no one left to impress."
Her jaw tensed.
"I don't need to prove anything to you."
"Good," he said. "Because you're not very good at it."
There was a beat of silence.
Then the sound returned.
Scrape.
That horrible, grating noise clawed across the upper ceiling it was getting close.
Liliana flinched just barely, Leo was pulled closer by his mother who seem she might pass out if it pokes it head in. The Matriarch of Veyr'Thal seemed ready to fight whatever the creature was.
Camilla was stood with her aunt Lady Maevera, their eyes sticking on the ceiling like they were waiting for it to show.
Everyone did.
Draven tilted his head toward the stairwell. His voice dropped low, calm, like someone reading from a page.
"It's found us."
The air thickened. The shadows along the wall shifted like they were breathing.
Sultan Harim stepped back toward the exit and the walls groaned.
That scraping sound had turned into a tearing, like stone being shredded from the inside. The lights flickered then darkened. Sultan Harim stepped forward first, hand pressed to the floor.
The wall rumble. The ground cracked outward in a perfect circle from his boots. Thick stone rose like a jagged shell between them and the stairwell. A barrier, Incase the outer wall was breached they would have enough time to hold it off.
Lord Raith didn't stand still his hands lit like a torch. Flames rippled from his hands, up his arms, burning gold-orange. He threw fire toward the ceiling, and the heat of it made the air ripple.
Matriarch Ven Thrym quiet until now, raised both arms and closed his eyes. The time stuttered. Just for a second everything paused. The scrape stopped. The air stilled. The flickering of light froze mid-blink. He was holding the world by its throat.
But it wouldn't last.
And they all knew it.
"We hold them here," Lord Raith said, voice commanding.
"All of you," Lady Maevera added, nodding to the four of them standing, "go now. We will keep the creature busy, save yourself go now.
"Am not going anywhere, am fighting with you" Camilla said stepping closer to Meavera.
"You can't stay here Camilla, we can barely keep this thing at bay" Lia, Meavera's commander said.
"She's right Camilla, you need to leave find a safe place until everything settles, we need someone to go back to Dynara" Maevera said.
"No—" Leo started forward, fists clenched. "We can fight too. We're not children."
Sultan Harim voice boomed like boulders falling.
"You are. And we don't plan to lose you." Lady Jade nodded agreeing to her husband, she couldn't stand still and watch her soon get killed in front of her.
Malachi's eyes glowed faint blue, lips pulled into a tight grimace. "If you think I'm just going to run while you stand back and protect me, you don't know me at all."
"I do know you," Matriarch Ven Thrym snapped. "I trained you. And if you stay here, you die."
Liliana's eyes darted around the room. "There's got to be another way, an escape tunnel Father, say something!"
Lord Raith didn't look at her.
He was already stepping toward the exit where the creature was still held off by time
Camilla gritted her teeth, lightning crackling at her fingertips. She looked torn, ready to disobey.
"I'm not leaving," she said quietly. "I won't."
"You will," Lady Maevera said gently, "because we are asking you to, not as rulers. As those who love you."
The air trembled again.
The barrier Sultan Harim raised began to crack. From behind it, something laughed. A sound like knives and breath and nothing human.
Draven hadn't moved.
He stood with his arms crossed, expression unreadable, eyes fixed on the crumbling stone.
When he spoke, it was calm, almost bored.
"If we don't move now, we might as well, pretend all this crying didn't happen".
The creature shrieked.
A hole burst through the wall. Black smoke curled into the chamber, reaching.
Matriarch Ven groaned, blood leaking from his nose as the strain of his time-hold faltered.
"Ven!" Lady Meavera screamed reaching towards him.
"This is it," Raith growled. "GO!"
Leo grabbed Camilla by the arm.
"Come on. We have to go. Malachi, Liliana, Draven, MOVE!"
Liliana stood frozen. Torn.
Then her father looked at her, really looked.
One last time.
Not as a Lord.
As a father.
And nodded.
She turned and ran.
Malachi pulled Ven hand from the air, forcing him to stop his grip on time, saving the last of his strength.
Camilla looked back only once.
The last thing she saw was Lady Maevera shielding Matriarch Ven with her body as the creature dove into her. Lord Raith ablaze like a sun, throwing fire at the darkness, and sultan Harim holding his wife while raising walls like mountains with her diverting a rock forcefully to shield them both.
And then the smoke swallowed them whole.
The ran.