The labyrinth of winding halls and wide corridors snaking through the shadowy fortress that was Castle Braexus were uncharacteristically empty. Even during the battle between the Teodorof twins, no one came rushing to address the commotion. Not a single soul emerged from the shadows to come to the aide of their princess—or to kill their prince.

Sebastian found that strange.

After shadowjumping into the portal room, he realized why no one came.

His body seized as he froze in the center of the room, rooted to the black tile as if he had sprouted out the ground like a tree. At least thirty Shades filled the circular, domed-roof room. They stood in five perfect rows of six, not a single foot misplaced, faces pointed toward the archway holding the portal.

And now he was standing right in front of them.

Eyes slowly widening, he inched backward.

They peered at him with curiosity through their silver masks. Murmurs rippled through the small crowd. Their curiosity quickly turned to distrust. Distrust turned to hostility. Vayrirs were summoned. Gargoyles were called down from their perches. The rows broke, magicians pouring forward like black liquid spilling from a shattered potion bottle.

Sebastian cursed.

His father wasn't among them.

He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or afraid. His mind settled on the latter. Dread seized his muscles, his shoulders slumping with defeat.

Am I too late?

Stealing a glance at the portal, he grit his teeth. No, there was still time. Even if Thorian and his small band of Shades had left through the portal, he could still stop them. He had to. The last surviving members of House Lumai depended on him. If he didn't stand up to his father, no one would.

Fighting Amora had sapped more of his energy than he would've liked. Glancing down at the Obscurio, and seeing the black gemstone was dimmer than a faded penny, he wasn't sure how much longer he could count on the artifact to assist him. He scowled at the crowd ahead of him. The duel with his sister had been a warmup.

This was the main event.

For years, he had been studying and training tirelessly—training to become a Shade, a dark magician destined to rule the world in the name of the Order of the Black Lotus. At least, that's what he thought his training was for.

But now he knew what that tiny voice in the back of his head was. He knew what the doubts and the feeling of not belonging in a room full of people who looked just like him were.

He wasn't training to become one of them.

He was training to take them down. Fires couldn't be put out from within the house; only from outside.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose, his narrowed gaze studying the faces of those moments away from striking him down. Rolling his shoulders, he summoned his vayrir with a simple incantation. His fingers tightened around the metal hilt. The cold metal, etched with deep inscriptions of the old language, soothed his warm palms, which tingled with anticipation.

His eyes darted around the room, watching as Shades and gargoyles alike converged on him.

The stone guardians must've alerted them of his treachery during his battle with Amora. It was his only explanation as to why the Shades were so quick to attack. While he was dressed like a civilian, he was still the son of their leader. That had to count for something.

Then again, he was also the thief of their most prized possession.

That surely outweighed his status of prince of House Tenebris.

A quartet of eager Shades rushed him. He didn't recognize their masks. That made killing them easier for him. Faceless enemies were just that. Faceless.

Thrusting out his left arm, he launched his vayrir into the chest of the nearest magician. The black blade burrowed into their ribcage, sinking them to the ground. Blood gurgled from their throat, spilling out from the sides of their mask.

But that was just one.

It felt like there was an endless number of magicians coming at him. Not to mention the screeching gargoyles flying down from their perches, swiping at him with their sharpened claws. Sebastian knew better than to let them touch him. Their talons were known to turn men to stone. His father was smart to deploy them around the council.

Bursts of shadow magic flew from his hands and into the stone goblins. They exploded into rubble, rocks raining down from the sky like hail. Spinning on his heel, he delivered a swift punch to the chin of an encroaching Shade. His foot connected with the temple of another. His hands fired off spell after spell, charm after charm. The vitalae and adrenaline rushing through his veins drained with every passing second.

But they kept coming.

With sweat dripping down his face, he backed away from the horde.

Glancing down at the Obscurio, he begged it to help him. The ring went silent.

Oh, now you don't want to help.

Who knew ancient artifacts could be so temperamental? Perhaps it knew he wasn't its true master. Whatever the reason, he couldn't dwell on it for long. He had magicians to fight and a portal to escape into. Clenching his jaw, he gave himself a curt nod. Only he could save himself.

As he continued to retreat, fending off spells flying at him from every which direction, he racked his brain for a solution.

His eyes lit up.

Grinning, he held his hands out and got to work on the complex sequence. His fingers twisted and bent, moving quicker than lightning as he performed the dark spell he once saw in his father's personal spell book.

He'd never fully completed it before, as it was said to result in insanity if performed incorrectly, but he was out of options. Besides, what better time than the present to experiment?

Dropping down to one knee, he pressed his palms to the floor. Black magic surrounded his hands. A yell rumbled from his throat as he released the vitalae building in his veins. Magic poured from his hands and rippled through the floor. Ghastly arms—almost as if they came straight from the depths of the underworld—reached up, yanking magicians by their collars and hoods, swallowing them in the shadows. As their screams rang out in the air, and eventually faded into the abyss, Sebastian turned and ran to the portal.

He wasn't sure where the spell took them, but he didn't care. Making it to the portal was the only thing that mattered to him.

Wheezing, he continued forward. Each step was harder than the last. His poor muscles felt like tissue paper. A steady stream of sweat dripped down his face, soaking through his shirt and making his skin sticky and slick. His long hair clung to his face for dear life, vision doubling as he neared the portal.

He was almost there.

"Don't let him through!" someone bellowed from behind him.

Their cries went unheard.

With a shuddering gasp, Sebastian threw himself into the magical doorway.

❁

He landed on wet grass in someone's backyard.

No, not someone's—the Moreaus. Makaela's backyard. It was the hidden chateau in Montreal his father told him about. The location, only known by a handful of magicians, had been gleaned out of two unfortunate souls the Redfangs found hiding in an Ordinaire town somewhere in Ottawa. Sebastian wasn't present for that particular torture session.

He was glad he wasn't.

When he heard the Shades return to the castle, boasting and raving about their success, he wanted to punch them in their stupid faces. He hadn't known why then. After all, House Lumai was the enemy. Why did he care what happened to them?

But he did.

His father always told him he was his mother's child.

Now he was starting to believe him.

Picking himself up from the ground, Sebastian shuffled toward the beige and white mansion ahead of him. Immaculately trimmed hedges surrounded the rear foyer. Bronze statues fitted with armor and gleaming lances guarded the house, their still wings sprouting from their backs sharp like knives. It was clear they weren't normal statues.

Sebastian knew exactly what they were. Automations.

Had the residents of the chateau been expecting a fight, they would've been activated without a shadow of a doubt.

Thorian had the element of surprise. He preferred it. The man always kept to the dark, lurking in the shadows like the demon he aspired to be. Sometimes Sebastian thought he was born from it. In many ways, he was.

Gritting his teeth and forcing himself to ignore the fatigue creeping through his body, he finally made his way to the backdoor. After performing a quick unlocking charm, he slipped inside and searched for the Shades.

The backdoor led him down a mazy hallway that emptied into what he assumed was the living room. Splintered wood littered the ground, along with two bodies. He recognized one—a Shade. Kylian, the vulture. He wasn't dead, but the second—whom he found in another room off to the left—was. The acrid smell of death lingered in the air. Sebastian screwed his face at the source, a heavy-set man with grey hair and eyes bluer than sapphires. At least, he assumed they once were. Now, they were frozen and darker than an ocean on a cloudy day.

Sebastian could see where the killing curse hit him. Square in the chest. The mark of his father.

His shoulders dropped. Rage bubbled in his chest. He bit down so hard on his lip that it started to bleed.

He was too—

A door slammed somewhere in the mansion.

His eyes lit up.

Makaela might've still been alive. He could still save her. He could still prevent his father from taking the Illumio. Without a second thought, he turned and ran toward the source of the noise. There was a room at the end of the hall. Someone's study by the looks of it. Through the opened doorway, he spotted his father's robes, trailing behind him like a malevolent shadow.

His hand was raised.

Sebastian tensed, his breath catching in his throat.

Closing his eyes, Sebastian called upon the shadows around him for what felt like the hundredth time that night. When he opened them, he was stood between his father and a frightened Makaela. Rising slowly, he dropped the hood of his jacket.

He scowled at his father.

The man returned the gesture, his one good eye burning with malice. Baring his teeth like an enraged beast, he took a threatening step forward. Sebastian held his ground. He lifted his chin slightly, his casting hand raised. His violet mark pulsed, prepared to fire off an attack at any given moment.

It kept Thorian at bay. For now.

Out the corner of his eye, he spotted the girl gawking at him.

A luscious mane of black curls framed her heart-shaped face. Bright, golden eyes peered at him, wide with confusion. She clutched an ornate box crafted out of gold in her hands. His eyes widened. The Illumio.

Stiffening, she shifted her gaze from Sebastian to Thorian. She pressed the gold box to her chest, her face twisted with determination. A tingle rippled through Sebastian's body as he stole a glance at her.

She should've been afraid. Bawling her eyes out or frozen with fear. His father had been moments away from ending her life, yet she barely showed a morsel of the familiar terror Thorian inspired in everyone.

But not her.

Sebastian scolded himself internally before redirecting his attention back to the dark lord ahead of him. Now wasn't the time to get distracted.

"So, you're a thief now, I see," Thorian spat, his good eye settled on the Obscurio.

He glanced at the ring before shrugging nonchalantly. "I guess I am." The black gemstone flared to life.

"You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" Thorian grinned, though, it looked more like a sneer. "The ring doesn't respond to you, boy." The word stung like a slap. "I'm surprised it hasn't driven you mad yet."

"Sadly, I can't say the same about you."

Fuming, his father narrowed his eyes.

"Step aside, boy."

"Not a chance."

"What the hell is going on here?" Makaela asked from behind him.

They both ignored her.

"Um, hello?!" She stepped forward, her thick brows pinched together.

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian turned to her. "Run. Get as far away from here as possible. I'll come find you."

"I'm not going anywhere. This is my fight. I don't need you to protect me."

"Don't argue. Just do it—"

Thorian surged forward, his vayrir summoned. The silver scythe was a harbinger of death in his hands. It radiated vitalae, almost as if it was an extension of himself. The crescent blade caught the light from a lamp nearby, giving it a ghastly silhouette on the wall behind him.

"I'm afraid neither of you are going anywhere."

Sebastian bristled. He called upon his weapon. His dagger seemed like a toothpick compared to his father's blade.

"Makaela," he said.

She gulped, her eyes wide. "Yeah?"

"Go," he told her. "Now."

This time, she listened. She sprinted past Thorian, shoving him as she did so. He stumbled but caught his balance. With both hands on the long handle of his weapon, he swung the blade at her head. She dove forward, before rolling out through the doorway. With the man's scythe now lodged into the wooden doorframe, Sebastian attacked.

A magenta spell* flew from his casting hand. Thorian summoned a shield charm. The spell exploded into shimmering light, raining down around him like bioluminescent rain. He tutted disappointedly.

"Have you learned nothing from our sessions?"

"Yeah, it turns out you're not the best teacher."

"Hmph. Pay close attention to this then, boy."

Thorian's fingers performed the sequence for a shadowbind. Black iron chains shot out from his hands and wrapped around Sebastian's forearms. With a hard pull, he brought his son down to the floor. Sebastian's chin hit the hardwood. Stars swam in his vision.

As he felt the chains digging into his skin, he let out a groan. Pinpricks of pain scaled up his arms.

Yelling, he conjured up a countercurse with his off-hand and gripped the chain binding his left arm. It shattered, before vanishing into dark mist. After doing the same to the second, he jumped up to his feet.

He and his father circled each other, both engaged in their respective dueling stances. It was a familiar sight for Sebastian. But this wasn't a training session. This wasn't a friendly duel or sparring match. No referee, no tapping out.

This was real.

Sebastian's hands wavered. His face softened. Doubt crept into his mind like a tapeworm.

Thorian remained steadfast. He was tense as ever, vision focused, hands raised. He was prepared to kill.

A lump lodged itself in Sebastian's throat. It shouldn't have surprised him, yet it did. The man would've stopped at nothing to get what he wanted—including murdering his own children. He knew that. He always knew it.

So why did it still hurt so much?

Thorian huffed. "Having second thoughts?"

Sebastian angrily wiped the tears brimming in his eyes.

"Crying? Are you that weak, boy?"

"How could you?! How could you do this?" he roared. This time, he let the hot tears fall. They streamed down his face like a raging river. All the pent-up rage inside flowed with them. "You lied. To all of us! None of this was ever about the good of the magician community, was it? You only care about yourself!"

"Don't you dare question my motives, boy!" he spat. "You know nothing. You have always known nothing. And now you will die knowing even less."

"You don't care about us." Sebastian's voice shrunk. He felt like a timid little boy again. He squeezed his eyes shut as he cried. "You never cared, did you? Even when Mom disappeared. Did you even try looking for her?"

Thorian flinched. For a moment, the veil of apathy covering his face lifted. A glimpse of the emotion beneath shone through. But it was gone within seconds. Seething, the man sliced a hand through the air.

"Enough!" he bellowed.

Nodding, Sebastian wiped his nose. "Yeah. That is enough."

The two of them attacked each other with identical blasting spells. A brilliant clash of verdant orange sparked between them, white-hot sparks of magic flying from the collision point. Sebastian grunted as he forced his stream further, breaking down Thorian's defense. The man's brows furrowed. He pressed back.

Sebastian paled as he watched his father's spell devour his own. Terror filled his body.

Forced to abandon the stalemate, he dove to the side and let the dark lord's spell blast through the wall behind him. A massive hole leading to the outside garden ruined the wall of the study. The cold night air seeped inside, bringing in the smell of rain with it. Thin curls of smoke rose into the air.

Breathing heavily, Sebastian turned his head.

Another spell hurtled toward him. Rolling on his side, he dodged it. He sprung to his feet and took off for the door.

He couldn't fight Thorian.

Even with the Obscurio in his possession, he was no match for his father. Since their battle begun, the ring refused to inspire his attacks. Its whispers ceased, its power gone. He was on his own again.

He had to leave. He had to find Makaela and get out of there.

It was the only way to protect her and the Illumio from the wrath of the Black Lotus.

With a rueful shake of his head, he took off down the hall.