"You should consider playing your tricks a little more carefully, Ashworth," Krevyr said suddenly—for the fifth time this afternoon—dragging me back to the noise and sweat of the market.
My brows drew low into a frown. "What are you on about?" I muttered my voice edged and flat.
We stopped by a fruit stall. Krevyr leaned in close to the vendor, muttering something low that made the man bark out a laugh. Krevyr's face didn't move—still that dead, unreadable mask. He vanished briefly behind the stall, which I noticed now stretched larger than I'd first thought. Storage tucked behind the curtain of color and crates. I didn't care what game he was playing or what he wanted here. He glanced out instead toward the market square, where a pack of children ran wild, playing warriors with sticks held like blades.
"I'm just saying," he muttered, ruffling his dark hair with lazy fingers. "At the pace you're going, and after what happened with Ryke, you're going to send yourself to the grave faster than expected."
"The grave," I shot back, voice sharp as broken glass, "would be better—more comforting, more heavenly—than my personal hell." I swallowed hard, though, because that chaotic feeling was creeping closer with every heartbeat.
"Do you want to die, Ashworth?" he asked, turning to face me fully now. His voice was low, steady. "Because to me, it looks like you have no purpose in life anymore."
"Don't speak to me like you have one," I snapped, the words tearing out of me before I could stop them. Heads turned, eyes flicked in our direction—but I didn't care. "And besides—"
I stepped in, staring straight into his eyes. Krevyr towered over me by a good margin, but that didn't stop me from locking onto his gaze with every ounce of fury I had. "You don't expect me to listen to someone who played a hand in my mother's death, do you?"
His silence was immediate, crushing. His eyes darkened, shadow heavy over them, before he turned away, gaze sliding down to the ground as if the dirt beneath our feet was suddenly fascinating. His voice was barely more than breath when it came.
"No. I don't."
Sweat trickled down my temple. The feeling was closer now, crawling under my skin like claws. My eyes darted fast, frantic, searching. But everywhere I looked, I saw only ordinary faces, ordinary people. And still the chaos pressed in.
"What I do want," he said, voice firmer now, "is for you to live. Your sister is out there. Alone. Gods know what situation she's in."
My blood burned hotter than fire. The cuffs seared into my skin, branding me in their cruel light. After four years, I'd grown immune to their punishment, but the rage? That never dulled. I forced my voice low, venom dripping from every word.
"Don't go there."
He ignored me, his eyes still averted, hair ruffled under his restless fingers.
"She needs you," he continued.
"If you die, she won't have anyone left." His voice was low, almost too calm, but there was something in it—something like hope, or maybe desperation hidden under ice. My fist balled so tight my nails cut skin, jaw clenching until it hurt. The cuffs ignited, glowing brighter, searing into me. I couldn't even feel the patch of flesh beneath the cold metal anymore. The coppery tang of magic flooded my senses as I fought to chain my anger down. "Krevyr, I'm warning you."
He tilted his head, the barest flicker of interest in his dead eyes. "I could help you, you know," he said, voice cutting cold.
"Help?" I spat, venom in every syllable. "Don't say that word to me."
"I can help you find Naial."
Everything around me collapsed into silence. The bickering of the vendor and customer vanished, the children's shouts in the square snuffed out like candles, even the heavy bustle of footsteps around us blurred into nothing. Only his words remained. My breath stalled in my throat, a knife wedged there.
"You don't—" my voice broke, then hardened, low and sharp. "You don't get to say her name."
Krevyr's gaze wavered for just a second, his mask cracking at the edges. "She's alive, Ashworth. My spies could track her faster than you ever could alone. All you have to do is—"
"Shut up." I snapped, but my voice wasn't loud—it was too quiet, too dangerous. The cuffs burned hotter, magic seeping into the air like smoke. "Don't you dare twist her into this? Not after the fact you nearly killed her."
His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't stop. "You're restless. Reckless. Desperate to claw your way out of these chains. But you don't even see it—you'll destroy yourself before you reach her. Let me—"
My hand shot out before I even thought. call it reflex call it instinct, the cuffs flaring as they scorched my skin raw. He caught my knuckle instantly before it landed, holding it up, and the glow reflecting in his cold eyes. The heat hissed between us, the smell of burnt flesh crawling into the air.
"Your hand's burning," he said, voice steady as stone.
"Better my hand than letting you touch a single piece of her life." I ripped my hand free, the sting climbing up my arm, glaring at him with every ounce of rage left in me. "Go near Naial, and I'll kill you myself."
He exhaled slowly, almost like a sigh, before ruffling his hair, muttering something I couldn't catch. His eyes had gone hollow again, but I caught the weight lingering there, buried under the void.
We may have attracted a few bystanders, Krevyr staring at me for an unreasonably long moment before sighing again and ruffling his hair, that lazy gesture of his only stoking my fury.
"You're hopeless," he muttered, turning away like I wasn't worth the breath.
Steam curled off my cuffs in thin tendrils, searing my wrists, but the real fire was under my skin. Rage seethed in me like molten iron, thick and suffocating. My jaw locked so tight it ached, my nails digging crescents into my palms until blood nearly broke through. My chest rose and fell sharply, every breath ragged like my lungs themselves were trying to claw out of me. The veins in my temples throbbed, my vision tunneling with red edges—I wanted to scream, wanted to tear, wanted to paint the street in Krevyr's blood. How dare he look at me like that. How dare he judge me, as if his hands weren't already stained blacker than mine.
"Stay here," he ordered flatly, pointing to the spot beneath my boots. I narrowed my eyes, every muscle in my body coiled like a blade about to snap. "I'm going to pick up some stuff. Just don't run away," he added, as if he were tired of having to babysit me.
"Don't order me around!" I snapped, voice sharp enough to cut glass, my hands clenching harder as the cuffs glowed bright, branding the flesh beneath.
He nodded, expression unreadable, not even giving me the satisfaction of an argument. Then he turned down the path and disappeared into the throng, swallowed by the crowd like smoke. That piece of shit. I growled low in my throat, heaving a breath heavy with fury, though it did nothing to quench the burning desire inside me to bathe in his blood.
My vision blurred suddenly, a wave crashing over me, and I staggered, clutching the side of the fruit stall to steady myself. The vendor leaned forward, asking if I was alright, but his words were gnats in my ear. I couldn't care less.
I had forgotten about that chaotic essence—until now. It was back, pressing against me, sharper than before, violent in its rhythm. My chest tightened as though invisible claws were raking across my ribs. It wasn't just danger—it was too wild, too unstable. Familiar, in a way that twisted my gut. My breaths came shallow, my skin crawling as if the very air had teeth.
I coughed suddenly, the sound tearing out of me, and instinctively raised my hand. When I pulled it back, crimson smeared across my fingers, dripping slow and warm. My stomach churned at the sight. My magic was low, dangerously low, my senses dulled to a blur, and my body was nothing but a brittle husk. Vulnerable. Exposed. Name a worse state, I thought bitterly, almost laughing—but the reality hit like a hammer: this wasn't four years ago. There would be no saving grace this time.
The vendor reached out again, but I shoved him away, my glare silencing any further interference. He wisely backed off as I braced against the stall, trying to balance myself. The essence was creeping closer, heavy and suffocating. My eyes darted wildly, scanning every corner—the crowd, the children shrieking in play, the vendors arguing with customers, faces flashing by. But there was nothing. Nothing stood out. Was I losing my mind? My senses overloaded, static blurring everything together until even the ground felt like it was spinning beneath my boots.
Then—impact. Something slammed into me like a thrown boulder, and I stumbled hard. Only, the boulder was a child. A little girl lay on the cobblestones, sniffling, tears streaking dirty trails down her cheeks as she rubbed the dirt from her face. She looked like a peasant's daughter, but the fabric of her dress was out of place—better kept, cleaner, something that caught my eye even in my haze. Still, she was definitely not the chaotic essence. That was clear the moment I looked at her.
Speaking of which—the essence was gone. Completely gone. Vanished like it had never been there.
The hell?
I exhaled in shaky relief and crouched to her level, despite the steam of rage still curling inside me. "You alright, kid?" My voice softened instinctively, even if the fury under my skin hadn't cooled in the slightest.
She sniffled, looking up at me with wide watery eyes, and then nodded quickly. I took her tiny hand—soft, fragile—into my own rough grip and helped her to her feet. She dusted her dress clumsily, still shaking, then looked up at me. Gods, she was small. Barely up to Naial's chin if she'd been here.
"I-I'm sorry f-for running into you," she stammered, her little voice trembling, cracked from crying. "P-please don't r-report me to my master. I-I'm already on my l-last strike." Her breath hitched, desperation flooding her tone as she wiped her face again. "I-If he finds out… h-he's going to l-lock me in the cellar."
I widened at the child's pleas—gods, she was just like me. Just without the cuffs, without the collar biting into her skin. Now that I looked closer, really observed, I noticed her eyes—topaz, the same color as mine. But her hair… silver, bright even under the dusty sun. She reminded me more of Naial than any child I had laid eyes on in the past four years. That was the cruelest cut of all, the world dangling her ghost in front of me in the form of this trembling little girl.
A sound left me before I could stop it—a chuckle. A real one. A hearty, broken thing I hadn't heard in years, like a forgotten song ripped back into existence. "I'm not going to report you, kid," I said softly, reaching out to ruffle her messy silver hair. "But maybe next time, don't go running around like the world belongs to you. Look where you're going."
Her eyes widened with relief. "R-really? You're not g-going to tell?"
I shook my head, watching her lip tremble. "No. You're safe. Just… be smarter, alright?"
She nodded frantically, sniffling. "I-I'll be careful, I p-promise. I just… I just wanted to p-play, but… but Master says I'm not supposed to—" Her voice cracked, the weight of fear trembling through her words.
"Kid," I interrupted gently, crouching a little closer. "You don't owe me an explanation. Just… go on before someone starts looking for you. You don't want him finding out, right?"
She gulped and shook her head hard, relief washing her small features. Then she broke into the tiniest smile, bowing her head. "Th-thank you… thank you so much."
"Go," I whispered, voice breaking lower.
She turned and ran A few paces away before stopping then turning back to me "I will repay you someday, I swear it" she spoke loudly enough for me to hear it, My lips twitched up instinctively
she turn back and continued, her tiny frame weaving between people, dodging carts, brushing shoulders, before disappearing entirely into the press of bodies. Gone like smoke in the wind.
But gods above, she gave such vague, piercing impressions of Naial that my chest ached. For a moment, I almost let myself imagine it was her, standing there, thanking me.
Almost.
I clenched my teeth hard enough to sting, yanked back into reality. Damn Krevyr. Damn his voice, damn his shadow, damn his very existence. I wouldn't have been thinking of Naial if it weren't for him. Not that I didn't already torture myself with imaginative versions of her—false realities where she was safe, where we were together—but Krevyr's words made them sharper, crueler. He turned every memory into a knife.
And wasn't that just the story of my day? First, the bloody closure. Then Ryke trying to paw at me like I was prey. Then Victor tightening the leash around my throat, branding me his slave. Then Rue, with her manic eyes, parading me like some whore in front of her sycophants. And now Krevyr, with his smug sighs, trying to piss me off with his hollow, oh-so-sorry attempts at sympathy.
The world wanted me to break. I wouldn't. But gods, it was trying.
"This day just couldn't get worse," I muttered under my breath, fury churning so hot my throat burned.
I will repay you somehow, I swear it.
My lips twitched into something that could almost pass for a smile, twisted and bitter. That girl had good intentions. A good heart. But her vow, her desperate promise, was pointless. Insignificant. Useless. I praised her for the bravery, but it was wasted on a world like this.
You'd want her to repay you, wouldn't you, Kaya? Sure.
Let's keep it like that. A lie to keep you warm.
I raised my hand, flexing my fingers, watching them move normally. The trembling had stopped, my balance returned. My senses snapped back sharp and whole, though the chaos was still there, faint, slithering at the edge. No, not still there—gone. Again. Just like with Ryke. Just like with Buck. Always vanishing the moment it pressed closest.
I turned sharply, scanning. Nothing. Just people. Vendors, children, merchants, laughter, coins clinking, voices droning. No eyes on me. No predator in the crowd. Nothing.
Well. Official then. I was losing my damn mind.
I took a step into the pathway, forcing my legs to move. Fuck Krevyr. Fuck his orders, his "stay here." As if I'd ever obey him. The very thought of him twisted my stomach into bile, loathing chewing at my ribs. That void-hearted bastard thought he could chain me down, thought he could tug me around like a puppet and then sigh as if I were the hopeless one? I'd rather walk into fire than let him believe he owned a sliver of me.
Then—
A blur.
The edge of my vision fractured, something moving so fast my senses couldn't even register it. A flicker of motion, a whisper of air—then the world snapped.
Impact.
It was like a mountain had slammed into me. My body lifted, weightless for a heartbeat, before the stone caught me. My shoulder struck first, then my back, tumbling across the concrete path as I hit and rolled. My cuffs seared in shock, my lungs emptied with a violent grunt. Pain spiked everywhere.
Instead of standing, Kaya Ashworth was the one on the ground, kissing dirt and dust, sprawled in the chaos of the market.
And now you know, Kaya. Your day can get worse. Much worse.