• Stunning cover designed by -wanderes and banner made by me but inspired by her work •

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The taste of blood is familiar, bitter and tangy on my lips, dribbling past them to pool on the damp leaves beneath my cheek. My eyes flutter open and for a moment all I see is emerald glistening in sunlight, awash with colour, the hues melting together. Then I blink again and the world around me sharpens, becomes tangible.

Something prods my mind, nagging and refusing to abate, no matter how much I try to ignore it.

Azura.

I stretch my fingers, feeling seeping back into them, and with that feeling comes agony. I hiss as I shift, rising to my knees, more blood pattering to the dirt and blades of grass beneath me. Rasping breaths escape my lungs as I blink, hard.

I put pressure on my left arm, trying to ease myself to my feet, but the fire that crawls up my side with the slight weight has me crying out and crumbling back to the ground. My breaths turn ragged, puffing past trembling lips as I blink the tears from my eyes.

I haven't healed, which means I haven't been unconscious for long.

That nagging thought comes back, pushing to the surface, reminding me exactly where I am and panic seizes my throat. The yapping of a dog echos in the distance and shouts follow, inching closer.

Muttering a curse, I stagger to my feet, leaning against a tree as the forest sways around me, the trees curving towards me before lurching back. I press my cheek to the rough bark, waiting for the world to settle around me as I'm careful to keep my arm limp at my side, the bones still fragmented from my foolish mission in the Empire.

The memories come clawing forth as my thoughts begin to focus and a broken whimper falls from my lips.

Never submit.

I hear his voice, echoing through the trees around me, clear as the sun that dapples the leaves. I don't want to hear his voice. I don't want to hear anything. I want to cease being, but rarely do I get what I want.

I shuffle forward, knowing I can't turn back. Only servitude waits back at the Order, shackles and a list of demands I can't allow myself to become ensnared by. This curse within me has never felt more dangerous and I won't let it fall into the wrong hands. I won't let me fall into the wrong hands. His death would mean nothing if I went back.

Memories of that moment vie for my attention, reminding me of his blood glistening on the marble, of the thud of his head as it hit the ground.

My feet stumble to a halt and I wretch, my stomach convulsing. But there's nothing left within me to throw up, I've already been sick too many times to count since escaping the Order.

I close my eyes, tears wetting my cheeks.

There's no choice but to continue forward. Except I fear that my body has been broken too much to endure any more.

I barely register the shadow falling over me before I'm reacting, lurching away from the fist that swings at my face. I careen into a tree, pain shuddering through me like waves crashing into my body. I gasp, but the man continues to advance, eyes glinting in the sunlight, the blue and green of his clothing giving him away as a member of the Order.

"Come peacefully," he demands.

"Okay," I reply, my fingers twitching at my side. He reaches for me but doesn't get very far as I grab his hand and—with an animalistic growl—twist. He screams as tendons snap in his wrist and he stumbles forward. I use his momentum to wrench his arm behind his back and the pop of his shoulder echos through the forest. I shove him to the ground with a boot against his backside before staggering away, his resounding screams sure to draw more attention.

I don't get much further before my feet falter, wetness blooming against my back. I lift my sweater—torn and ruined—and inspect the steady stream of blood that leaks from the reopened knife-wound in my back, staining the waistband of my trousers.

My vision swims, black dots crowding my sight like spilt ink, and I throw out a hand, catching myself on a tree as I fall. I slump against it, my knees trembling too much to carry my weight anymore. I slide down to the forest floor with wheezing breaths.

More blood drains from me, taking my strength with it.

Little flame.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge his voice from my ears. I see his blue eyes like the bottomless ocean, staring at me with fierce disapproval. My brother taught me how to survive in the worst way possible, taught me that pain doesn't matter, that continuing on is what matters. Fall apart but keep standing.

Azura.

Then it's his voice. A breath, a whisper that caresses my senses. Soft and forgiving. Ari. Wolfboy.

My lips twist, the words I want to speak to him heavy on a tongue that's no better than lead.

I failed him. I failed them all. And now his sacrifice is in vain because the Order is coming and I can't get my feet back under me.

A shape materialises before me, a mass of colours and edges that I can't seem to focus on. Perhaps it's my brother, come again to teach me a lesson, to remind me that I'm weak and to remind me of the pain it'll take to be strong.

I'm barely aware of the feeling of being dragged, agony flaring with the movement, but it becomes a blessed numbness and I sink into black.

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My hearing comes back first, shoving sounds in my head and I twitch with them. The scurry of rats, their squeaks sounding like sharp hisses in my ears. The dripping of old pipes sounding like gushing water. I can hear the crackle of water sliding down the rust of those pipes and it makes me clench my eyes shut, moan, and try to lift my hands to block out the noise.

That's when I feel the rope chafing at my skin.

My eyes snap open and the darkness is a pressing blanket around me before my eyes adjust. I look to the rope around my wrists, twisting my hands to test the restraints, the pipe they're tied to rattling with my movements. A bone deep ache flares in my arm and I take a breath through gritted teeth.

My sleeve has been cut away, revealing what was once my ruined arm, now lined with countless stitches. The skin is pale, contrasted with deep blue and purple bruises. I blink at it. A part of me assumed I'd lose it before my body had a chance to heal.

How long have I been out? And how the Hell did I get here?

The questions fade as echoing footsteps reach my ears, my hearing having settled down to normal volumes. I lift my head, glancing around the damp tunnel, the walls slick and the old stone crumbling in some places. Those footsteps come closer until a dim orange glow reflects on the wet stone and tosses shadows throughout the tunnel.

I tug at the ropes, hissing with the sharp agony that jolts through me. Whoever brought me here clearly isn't a friend if they've tied me up. I don't have many friends anyway. I lurch forward and sink my teeth into the rope, trying to tear through it.

Orange light washes over me, bathing the tunnel in a soft glow, and I lift my gaze as the person approaches, lantern held up. It reflects on her straight black hair that brushes her jaw, her olive skin glistening with sweat.

"Good, you're awake," Vera says, setting the lantern down by a couple of packs.

I lean back, spitting bits of fibre from my mouth. "You going to take me back to Palmira?" I ask, keeping my gaze on her as she rifles through my pack.

"Don't you think I would've done that by now if I were going to?" she retorts, glancing at me, annoyance sparking in her slanted eyes. She goes back to my bag, digging through it. She drags out a blade from within, studies it, then shoves it back into the bag to continue looking.

"What do you want?"

She pulls something else from my bag, the paper crinkling. I frown at her as she unfolds it and inspects it before turning to me, not remembering packing any sort of paper into that bag in the Order. "Who's this?" She holds up the paper, the dim light illuminating the drawing etched onto the paper.

I jolt, my eyes widening. The girl in the drawing has full lips, her eyes fierce and long hair tumbles around her face. The colour was bright orange, like the sunset.

Ari's drawing, the one he showed me in the library, the drawings he couldn't sketch without alcohol because the memories were too painful. Now those memories are gone. Gone with him.

And I'm reminded all over again of what she did to him, of what I let happen.

I wrench against the restraints, my fingers curling like they're wrapped around someone's throat. All I want to do is squeeze and squeeze until something snaps and everyone who's responsible is dead. I know in the end I'll have to wrap my fingers around my own throat but not before I make them all pay.

A cry tears from my lips, broken like a dying animal with nothing left to lose. "Take me to her!" I scream at Vera, my voice bouncing off the walls of the tunnel. "Take me to Palmira! Let me end this."

I shouldn't have run. I should have stayed in the Order. I should have killed them all, made them understand that there are consequences for the things they've done.

"Now you're just being stupid," Vera snorts, shaking her head as she slips the drawing back into my bag.

My shoulders slump and I don't realise I'm crying until I feel the hot trickle of tears down my cheeks. A sob falls from my lips and I stop trying to free myself from the ropes.

Nothing will change what's been done. I stood by and let it happen. I watched Palmira take Ari's head.

I press the back of my head to the stone, Vera watching me as I draw in uneven breaths and close my eyes.

Let her see my weakness. Everyone else already has, it's how they so easily destroyed the fragile life I'd managed to build for myself since losing Dax. Just another person I failed.

"If I take you back there," Vera says, her voice softening in a way that I've never heard, "then his sacrifice would have been for nothing. The pain you're feeling would be for nothing."

I open my eyes to stare at her through the blur of tears. "Why are you helping me?" I ask, my gaze flicking to the stitches on my arm.

"Because..." Vera looks to her hand as she presses it against the crumbling stone of the tunnel beneath her. "Because Palmira didn't just destroy the shape-shifters. I've suspected for a while what she'd been doing, but then I heard her admit to it all in the ballroom."

"If you knew, why didn't you do anything?"

Vera brushes her hands together and stands. "Not all of us are fit to be heroes," she mutters.

I laugh. I tilt my head back and fucking cackle. "How rich," I say, my abdomen aching with the laughter. "Do you know why Ari died?" I lower my head to look at her, my laughter subsiding though there was no real amusement in it. The rage that churns in my gut won't allow for any other emotion. "Because he was looking for evidence to use against Palmira. And now you're here, saying you knew all along."

"What would you have had me do?" she spits, stepping forward. "That woman had me by the fucking throat, there was nothing I could do against her."

I lean forward, baring my teeth at her. "Then you should have gone to the people that were willing to do something against her."

Vera's lips twist, sparks of anger in her dark eyes. "She threatened my brother, and if he weren't on the other side of Rupteran right now on one of Palmira's missions, I would still be with her."

I shouldn't feel pity. I should hate her for being Palmira's loyal lapdog. But as I rest against the wall again and stare at her, I realise we're no different. I did Palmira's bidding. I killed the emperor for her. I fell into her traps, her lies about Suri being dead. The only difference between us is that the person Vera was trying to protect is still alive, while mine is dead.

"So, what now? We die in these tunnels?"

"Though I'm sure I should let you die down here considering how bad Palmira wants you, I have another idea." She turns and grabs our packs, shrugging them onto her shoulders. She takes the hatchet from her belt and turns to me. I stiffen, drawing my knees to my chest. "We're going to Wymler where more of the rebellion is. We'll tell them everything."

"You'll start a civil war that'll kill thousands of innocent people."

Vera approaches me and I eye the hatchet as she kneels before me. "If a civil war is what it takes for me to kill Palmira and get revenge for what she did to my people, then that's what needs to happen." She reaches forward, slicing through the rope before retying my hand again and dragging me to my feet. I stumble, my wounds aching with the shift of movement. "And you, Azura, are apparently very important in Palmira's plans, meaning you're the perfect weapon to use against her."

I spit at Vera's feet, but she just grins and yanks me through the tunnel.