SAGE
Voices dragged me out of the dark. They scraped across my consciousness like nails on stone, pulling me upward from a depth that had almost become merciful.
Pain greeted me before sight did.
It lived everywhere—sharp, throbbing, gnawing—but it burned brightest in my chest, radiating outward from the place where the stake remained lodged beneath my heart.
Every breath felt like it dragged glass through my lungs. Every heartbeat seemed to grind the wood deeper into flesh, as though my body itself were conspiring against me.
I had felt worse before. But not like this. This pain was layered—physical agony braided with black magic, corrosive and invasive, eating at my magic, destabilizing my core. I could feel the corruption crawling through my veins like a slow-moving poison, unraveling me thread by thread.
I had hidden most of it from Darius. From Adam.
Opening the mind path earlier had been a calculated risk, and I had refused to let my suffering become the trigger that sent them charging into a trap like reckless heroes in a tragedy.
Because, they would have come. Blindly. Foolishly. Straight into the queen’s web.
And I couldn’t afford that. The fewer people she held in her claws, the better.
Which meant I had to get out of this myself.
The realization tasted bitter. Because with a black-magic-tainted stake buried inside me—crafted specifically to destabilize someone like me—I had very little hope left.
They had known exactly what they were doing.
My life force was draining. Slowly, but relentlessly. Like sand slipping through fingers that could no longer close.
I had two days to live. Maybe less. I doubted I had more than that.
My lashes fluttered open. The world swam. The chamber resolved in fragments: stone walls smeared with shadow, candlelight wavering like nervous breath, the round table looming in the center like an altar to corruption.
I was still on the floor where Raul had left me, my body twisted at an angle that sent another wave of pain surging through my ribs.
Raul.
The thought stung sharper than the stake.
The betrayal still burned behind my eyes, unhealed. My chest tightened—not just from the wound, but from the memory of his face, the ease with which he had driven the wood through me.
Yes, I had not been faithful to him during what we had shared. Not truly. But no betrayal of mine had deserved this magnitude of treachery. Not this cruelty. Not this willingness to hand me over to monsters.
My gaze drifted, unfocused at first, then sharpening.
Three figures stood near the table. Freda. The queen. Hendel.
Hendel lounged in one of the chairs, posture relaxed, as though this were a casual meeting rather than a theater of torture. The others—Rachel, Raul, Duke—were nowhere to be seen.
How long had I been out? Hours? Days?
There was no sun here. No clock. No scent of time passing.
Freda’s presence unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.
She had been my teacher—the same academy the queen had sent me to. Cold. Brilliant. Ruthless in discipline. She had trained me to harden my heart, to sharpen my mind, to never hesitate in the face of danger.
She was also been the queen’s friend. Which meant she had always been closer to this rot than I’d ever realized.
It was Hendel who noticed my movement first.
His gaze slid toward me lazily, lips curling in faint amusement. He lifted two fingers in a languid gesture, beckoning the women’s attention.
Their heads turned toward me at the same moment.
The queen smiled. But Freda’s expression remained unreadable, her composure carved from ice.
The queen rose and glided toward me, skirts whispering across the floor like a serpent’s hiss. "How are you feeling?" she asked lightly, as though we were discussing the weather.
I didn’t answer. Words felt expensive. Energy felt scarce.
Her hand lifted. Magic curled around her fingers like black smoke.
And pain detonated inside my chest.
I screamed.
It tore out of me before I could stop it. The stake had twisted within me at her command, grinding against flesh, nerve, bone. The agony burst so violently that blood-red tears spilled down my cheeks, scorching as they fell.
The queen gasped theatrically, eyes alight with delight. "Oh my," she murmured. "So reactive."
Then she tilted her head toward Freda. "You see? She is not one of us. Stop trying to save her. She already betrayed us."
Save me?
I dragged my gaze toward Freda, meeting the eyes of the woman I had come to admire over the years. The teacher who had drilled discipline into me. Who had taught me restraint. Who had once told me that mercy was a weakness.
My eyes pleaded desperately.
For a moment, something flickered in her expression. Then she looked away.
The rejection cut deeper than I wanted to admit.
I shut my eyes. Pain. Rage. Hurt. All tangled together.
But if I was going to die here, I would not do it silently. Not without answers.
I forced my eyes open again, swallowing past the dryness in my throat. My voice emerged hoarse, scraped raw. "Why are you loyal to her, Freda?"
The question hung heavy.
Freda looked mildly surprised, as though she hadn’t expected me to speak at all. But she said nothing.
The queen laughed. "Does loyalty need a reason?" she mused, spreading her hands. "We are friends, Sage. We have always had each other’s backs."
Her smile sharpened. "Just as I had hers when she slaughtered her entire family."
The words hit like a blade. My breath stuttered. I stared at Freda, shock blooming despite myself. My mind scrambled to reconcile the composed woman I knew with the image the queen had just painted.
"You... really killed them?" I whispered.
Freda’s jaw tightened. She didn’t look at me.
The queen leaned closer, eyes gleaming. "Oh, she did. Every last one. Mother. Father. Sibling. All gone."
My gaze snapped back to Freda. "Why?"