Chapter Text
"You do not win a war by being the better man. You win by surviving it. And sometimes, survival demands atrocities."
- Colonel Lennox’s War Manual (Redacted Edition)
"I used to swear I’d never become them. That no matter what they carved into me, I’d never carry it forward. Never repeat it. And now? I’m resurrecting their legacy with my own hands. With my name. And the worst part? Gods help me… I don’t feel regret. Not even a little. Just the sick, familiar satisfaction of doing what needs to be done."
- Eleanor Tavis, Private Journal
GARRICK
It's been three days since the end of the world.
Or what should've been the end. Fire, ash, blood. The ground still hums if you stand still long enough—like the battlefield has a pulse, and it's just waiting for someone to say round two.
I haven't slept more than a handful of hours since it ended. None of us have. There's still too much silence, too much space where people should be. Where friends should be.
And yet...
My wife is in the middle of the courtyard, teaching a sentient shadow-parasite to play fetch with a human femur.
Welcome to Lenny's version of a vacation.
I stand at the edge of the stone steps, arms crossed, watching her with that kind of detached horror usually reserved for discovering a war crime or someone eating soup with their hands.
Noodle is coiled near her boots—if you can call it "coiled" when he's mostly smoke and whispering teeth with a spine. He's longer now, nearly a foot from fang to tail-tip.
Smoke drifts off him in slow, lazy tendrils, curling into shapes that make my stomach twist if I look too long. Sometimes it forms hands. Sometimes faces. Sometimes worse.
And Lenny? She's grinning like she's at the fucking beach.
"Fetch!" she chirps, windmilling her arm and sending the femur flying across the cracked courtyard. The bone clatters against stone and lands with a thunk next to the edge of what used to be a fountain and is now more of a glorified crater.
Noodle doesn't move at first. Just tilts his head and emits a low, chittering sound like a thousand wasps dying in a blender. Then he vanishes, dissolving into a smear of shadowfire that sizzles across the ground like black lightning. He reappears next to the bone a breath later, jaws unhinged, and swallows the femur whole with an audible crack.
"Oh, come on!" Lenny groans. "We talked about this, baby! Fetch, not devour."
Noodle burps.
Smoke trails upward in a perfect ring.
I blink. "Did he just fucking burp?"
Lenny glances over her shoulder at me, unfazed. "He's learning. Positive reinforcement. Patience."
"That was a human femur."
She shrugs. "It was just lying around. No one claimed it."
I want to protest. I really do. But there's no part of the last seventy-two hours that qualifies as normal, and my brain stopped filing complaints somewhere between the screaming and Xaden going full dark-side to keep us alive.
So I just stare as Noodle slithers back to Lenny, glowing eyes wide with joy or hunger—I honestly can't tell the difference—and nuzzles her leg. His smoke claws scrape across the stone with a faint hiss.
"You do realize he's evolving, right?" I mutter, walking toward her, boots crunching over bone fragments and ash. "He was the size of a caterpillar two weeks ago. Now he's basically a demonic scarf with an appetite for calcium."
"He's perfect," she says brightly, reaching down to scratch behind the... ear? Horn? Tentacle? Whatever it is, Noodle purrs. It sounds like a chainsaw revving underwater.
"Right," I say. "Perfect."
I stop a few feet away, because I'm still not entirely sure he won't eat me if I get closer.
Lenny doesn't seem worried, but then again, she also shattered her spine three days ago and walked it off like she tripped on a staircase.
She's not exactly the best gauge for sane decisions.
Three days ago, we were surrounded. Dying. Losing.
Now we're tossing bones around like it's recess in Hell.
"This is what we're doing with our recovery time?" I ask. "Playing fetch with Satan's tapeworm?"
She straightens and wipes ash off her pants, not even slightly offended. "Everyone else is moping or breaking things. Figured we should try something productive."
"Productive would be therapy."
She snorts. "You first."
Fair.
I glance up at the sky. It's overcast again. Has been since the battle. The clouds haven't moved in days, and the sun feels thinner somehow. Like it's afraid to shine too bright, in case it disturbs whatever the hell is still sleeping beneath the charred dirt.
Lenny follows my gaze. "You think it's really over?"
I want to say yes. I almost do. But I can't.
"No," I say eventually. "I think this was just the opening act."
Lenny nods like she already knew.
"Noodle. Go find another femur."
He slithers off without hesitation, leaving a trail of ash behind him.
Lenny moves, sitting on the edge of the fountain crater, arms wrapped loosely around her knees, boots scuffed and still streaked in dried blood.
I sink down beside her. Not close enough to touch. Not yet. Just enough to feel the warmth coming off her, like a fire you're not sure you're allowed to sit beside.
For a while, we don't say anything. The quiet between us isn't uncomfortable. It's just... full. Like the air's packed tight with everything we aren't saying.
And then she leans sideways, just a little. Her shoulder bumps mine.
Soft. On purpose.
I glance over. She doesn't look at me. Just keeps watching the sky like she's waiting for it to split open again.
"Y'know," I say, voice low, "you're a menace."
"Mm." Her lips twitch. "Takes one to know one."
She finally turns to look at me. There's dirt on her cheek. A small scar curling just under her jaw that wasn't there a week ago. Her eyes are sharp and unreadable and fucking brilliant even when she's clearly exhausted. She looks like someone who's still halfway in a war zone, even when the fighting's done.
I don't know who moves first.
But our lips meet in the middle, and it's soft. Softer than it has any right to be. No desperation. No fire. Just warmth. Just her.
Her fingers curl in my shirt like she needs something to hold onto and refuses to admit it. Mine find the back of her neck, the slope of her spine. She tastes like ash and salt and whatever fragile thing survived inside her through all of this.
When we break apart, she rests her forehead against mine, eyes closed. Our breaths tangle.
"I thought you were gonna die," she says quietly.
"I thought you were gonna die."
"Yeah, well." She leans back slightly. "Here we are. Cockroach energy."
I huff a laugh. But it fades fast. Because there's something else in her face now. A shadow that wasn't cast by Noodle.
"Have you seen him today?" I ask.
She doesn't pretend not to know who I mean.
Her mouth tightens. "No."
I wait.
She picks at a rip in her sleeve. "I tried. But... he's still in her room. Hasn't come out."
"Vi's?"
Len nods. "He's not talking to anyone. But he's there. With her."
I shift. "She lost her mom."
"She lost everything." Len snaps, voice sharper than I expected. Then, softer: "Lilith died for Violet. For her kids. She... she gave herself up to keep them safe. No one's said it out loud, but everyone knows. They're giving Violet space. Letting her grieve."
"And him?"
She doesn't answer right away.
I try again. "Have you seen his eyes? Are they still red?"
Len's jaw clenches. She turns her face away. "Doesn't matter."
"The hell it doesn't. He fed from the earth, Len. That's—"
"I said it doesn't matter."
Her voice is iron now. Shut. Slammed and locked.
I study her profile. The muscle ticking in her jaw. The flicker of something behind her eyes she's trying too hard to kill.
"You're not even curious?" I press, gently. "Not wondering what that did to him? How he feels?"
Her shoulders rise. Fall. "I know what it did. I saw it."
And there it is.
The weight. The crack in her voice she's trying to pass off as stubbornness but is too full of fear.
"You think he's like them now," I say.
She doesn't deny it.
I lean in, hand brushing her knee. "Len. We need to—"
She stands.
Just like that. Tension radiating off her like heat.
"We're not doing this," she says. "Not now."
"You always shut down when—"
"I said, not now."
There's steel in her again. But this time, it's not for battle. It's armor.
I stand too. Reach for her hand. She doesn't pull away.
"Okay," I say quietly. "Not now."
She looks up at me then, something aching in her expression.
"But soon," I add. "Don't shut me out forever, Lenny."
She nods, barely.
Before either of us can say something we'll regret—or something too honest to take back—we hear it:
"Get this fucking thing OFF me!"
Len and I both snap our heads toward the sound just in time to see Bodhi limp-staggering around the corner of the barracks, looking half-feral and full-pissed, with Noodle coiled around his right leg like a gothic friendship bracelet from hell.
Correction: coiled tightly around his femur.
Smoke curls from the parasite's back in lazy, taunting spirals, and his too-wide, too-sharp grin is on full display. His eyes glow like embers. His tail flicks with smug satisfaction.
"He bit me!" Bodhi yells, gesturing wildly. "The little fucker bit me and now he's just—clinging! Like I'm his chew toy!"
Noodle lets out a delighted hiss-purr-rattle, tightening his grip slightly. Bodhi flails like a man who's never fought off a determined parasite before—which, to be fair, none of us had until six months ago.
Len snorts. "Oh my gods."
We both start laughing.
We shouldn't.
But we do.
The tension from earlier breaks like a wave against the ridiculous sight of Bodhi limping around with a miniature demon snake wrapped around his leg like it's his personal thigh-high boot of doom.
Len manages to call out between snickers, "Noodle! No! I said a femur bone! From a corpse, not someone still alive. Let go! He's still using that femur!"
Noodle lets out an offended-sounding hiss-purr-growl hybrid and tightens his grip, as if he's being scolded for being ambitious.
Bodhi groans. "I thought we were friends, man. I fed you. Remember that? I held you when you were just a sad little worm with an attitude."
I step forward and give Noodle my best stern dad face, hands on my hips like I'm about to put him in time-out. "Noodle. No. You've already eaten today. You don't need a fresh femur. Let go of Uncle Bodhi before I revoke your Nox privileges."
Noodle makes a long, low groaning sound—like a demon deflating—then slithers off Bodhi's leg with exaggerated reluctance.
Noodle plops down between us with what can only be described as a huff, curls his body into a tight spiral, and starts sulking like a scolded puppy made of nightmares and shadowfire.
"You broke his heart," I say.
"He bit me."
Lenny snorts again, and for a moment, the heaviness that's been sitting in all of our chests cracks open just wide enough to let a little light in.
It doesn't last.
Because even as we laugh, I can still feel it—hanging over us like a storm that hasn't quite passed. The weight of the wardstone, the lingering rot of the Venin, the red rings hiding in Xaden's eyes.
And Lenny still won't talk about it.
We're still laughing when Bodhi rubs his leg and goes, "By the way—Xaden's doing better,"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Bodhi says, brushing soot off his leg where Noodle left a very dramatic smear of smoke. "I passed Vi's room just now. Xaden opened the door."
I pause, the shift in his tone not lost on me. "And?"
"And his eyes were clear," Bodhi replies, lowering himself onto a cracked section of the fountain ledge with a grunt. "No red. Just Xaden being Xaden. Grim and emotionally repressed. Classic."
I watch him, searching for the tell—Bodhi's not a great liar. Too many facial muscles. But this time, he looks steady. "You sure?"
He nods. "Wouldn't say it if I wasn't."
I exhale slowly. Relief doesn't come easy anymore, but I let a fraction of it in. "Alright. I'll stop by and check on them, take next watch. Give Imogen a break."
I glance at Len.
She's crouched beside Noodle, who's sprawled on his back like a cat that hasn't figured out its body is made of sentient shadow smoke and probably not supposed to do that. Len's scratching under what we've decided might be his chin, though we're all still waiting on conclusive anatomy.
I tilt my head toward the long hall that leads to the tower stairwell.
"You wanna come with?"
She looks up at me. Her smile is paper-thin.
"Nah," she says softly. "I've got stuff to do."
Then she picks up Noodle, who coils around her arm like a living gauntlet, smoke curling off his body like steam off a dying fire.
"Be good," I say, already knowing she won't.
She gives me a wink.
Then she vanishes in a sudden snap of shadowfire—gone in an instant, like she was never there at all.
Bodhi and I are left blinking at the empty air.
He mutters, "That's not ominous at all."
We share a look.
I sigh. "Yeah."
"Xaden's worried about her."
"I know."
Bodhi glances at me. "And you?"
"Yeah," I murmur. "I'm worried too."
Because Len's always been intense. Stubborn. Unfiltered. She doesn't cope, she survives. She bulldozes. She keeps moving forward until something breaks.
But this? This is different.
She's quiet when she thinks we're not watching. Quick to anger when anyone brings up what happened.
And I get it. I do. She almost died three days ago.
Xaden turned Venin to save her.
And she—she did something I've never seen before. Released shadowfire like it was second nature. Like she was born in it. The whole battlefield looked like the mouth of the Void for a second.
We don't even know what it cost her.
Or what it woke up.
"She's not exactly coping," I admit. "And whatever she's up to... she doesn't want us involved."
"She's planning something," Bodhi says.
"Yeah," I murmur. "She always is."
We stand in silence for a moment, the ruined courtyard spread around us like the aftermath of a dream that bit back. The wind tugs at the edges of the ash piles, dragging tiny spirals into the stone.
"She loves you, though," Bodhi says after a while, quieter. "In her own terrifying way."
"I know."
I stand, stretching sore muscles that haven't had a break in weeks.
"But love doesn't mean she won't burn the world if she thinks it'll help."
Bodhi looks up at me.
And I know we're both thinking the same thing.
What happens if Len stops trying to save us—and starts trying to fix us instead?
What happens when she stops fearing the darkness she carries?
I glance one last time at the space where she vanished.
Then I head toward the tower.
Toward Violet and Xaden.
Toward answers I'm not sure any of us are ready to hear.
ELEANOR
I appear in Katherine's room in a hiss of shadowfire and bad decisions, Noodle coiled tight around my shoulders like a haunted feather boa.
Katherine gasps.
Elias yells.
I grin.
"Gods, Lenny!" Elias snaps, clutching his chest like he's about to write a will. "Can't you knock?"
"What, and ruin my entrance?" I sweep an invisible cloak over one shoulder and flash him a wink. "Please. If you wanted manners, you shouldn't have raised me."
"We didn't raise you," he mutters. "We just tried to put the feral goblin back together after your parents carved you like a festival pig."
"Semantics." I wave him off and stride toward the bed, boots clicking against the stone floor. "Speaking of feral, Noods, go say hi to Kat."
Noodle uncoils from my arm and slithers across the bed to curl up beside Katherine like he belongs there. His smoke trails behind him in soft ribbons, brushing against her blanket—and not in the "I might devour your soul" way he usually reserves for strangers. This is gentle. Warm. Almost... sweet.
Katherine lets out a soft coo and strokes the smoke just behind his eyes. "Well, aren't you the cutest little horror I've ever seen."
He chirps and opens his jaws to present his offering: a crumpled, very dead flower, which looks like it was stolen from either a grave or a battlefield. (It was technically both)
"Oh," she gasps, taking it carefully like it's priceless. "You brought me a gift?"
Noodle hums proudly and presses his teeth against her wrist in what we've all decided to interpret as affection.
Elias makes a sound like he just swallowed a mouthful of rot.
"That thing is deeply cursed," he mutters.
"And yet," I say, throwing myself dramatically into the armchair beside him, "he's got better bedside manner than you."
I kick my boots up onto the edge of Katherine's bed, smirking.
Elias doesn't hesitate. Swats my feet off like I'm some unruly child and not a grown-ass woman dripping in shadow magic.
"Feet down, demon."
"Fine," I grumble, flopping sideways in the chair. "Oppression. Abuse. Shadowfire discrimination."
Katherine chuckles softly, propped up against the pillows. Her skin's still pale, eyes ringed with exhaustion, but she looks better. Less gray. Less like she's balancing on the edge of a very steep fall.
Poison blades will do that to a girl.
"How're you doing, Len?" she asks gently.
My grin stiffens.
"Great," I chirp. "Super stable. Sleeping like a baby. Zero existential crises. Absolutely no internal spirals."
She and Elias exchange the look.
The parent look.
The "we know you're full of shit but we love you anyway" look that makes my skin crawl and my throat itch and my insides want to peel away from my ribs.
I scowl. "Don't give me the face. I'm fine."
"You're lying," Elias mutters.
"I'm always lying," I snap back.
"That doesn't make it better."
"You're not my real dad."
"I basically am."
I stick my tongue out. He rolls his eyes.
Katherine, the traitor, is smiling. "You know Bodhi and Imogen came by this morning?"
I blink. "Yeah?"
"They brought flowers. And chocolate. Bodhi kissed my forehead. Elias almost knocked him out."
"Disgusting."
"They care," she says gently. "You've got a good squad around you."
I don't respond.
Elias adds, "The rest of the squad's stopped by, too. In and out. Even Rhiannon and Ridoc."
"Mm."
Katherine watches me with those too-kind eyes that make me feel like a fraud.
"Garrick stopped by last night," she says casually.
That makes me lift my head.
"He did?"
"Mm-hmm."
Elias sighs. "He said he tried to bring you along, but you weren't in your room. He said you haven't been in your room and that you've barely slept."
I snort. "I need to tell my husband to stop snitching."
"You need to sleep," Elias corrects.
"I did sleep."
He arches an eyebrow. "When?"
I grin. "Once. Like three months ago when I was locked in a cage. It was nice."
He looks ready to launch into a full lecture, but Katherine pats his hand and gives me another soft smile—the kind that reaches the places I've been trying so fucking hard to keep locked down since the battle.
"Everything's fine."
They don't believe me.
That's the worst part.
They know me. Too well.
But they don't know about the things crawling under my skin. The way my magic still hasn't stopped thrumming since the battle. The way I haven't stopped since the moment I almost died.
They don't know that I still hear my mother's voice sometimes when I'm falling asleep. That the battlefield took something from me—and left something else behind.
They don't know about Xaden.
They don't know what I saw in his eyes.
They don't know what I'm planning.
So I keep the grin in place, lean back in my chair, and toss an almond at Noodle like none of it matters.
And I say, "Seriously. I'm fine."
Because if I say it enough, maybe one day I'll believe it.
Katherine's eyes flick toward me as I toss another almond toward Noodle. He catches it mid-air, unhinging his jaw with an unnecessary amount of enthusiasm and a delighted little purr. Elias watches him like he's expecting Noodle to transform into a harbinger of doom at any second, which... honestly, fair.
I glance at Katherine. She's sitting up better today, less pale, though her skin still has that washed-out hue that says hey, remember when you got stabbed with a poison blade?
I lean back in the chair, sling one leg lazily over the armrest. "So, Kat," I say, casual as anything, "how you feelin'? Still got the poison-rib stabbing blues or what?"
Katherine chuckles under her breath. "It wasn't exactly a fun time."
"Yeah, getting impaled rarely is," I say, grinning.
She raises an eyebrow, amused. "I'm doing much better, actually. I convinced Brennan and Nolon to not mend me right away. They were near burnout after the battle—didn't want to push it. Figured I'd let the normal healers do what they could first."
I glance at Elias. He looks like he's been chewing glass over that decision.
"She says convinced," Elias mutters, "but it was more like 'refused to let them touch her until they were no longer walking corpses.'"
"They're not immortal," Katherine reminds him gently. "You know I wasn't going to risk it. We need them both."
"Still reckless," he grumbles. "You're allowed to care about yourself too, you know."
She gives him a soft look. It's enough to make him sigh and squeeze her hand, and I immediately look away, pretending to be very interested in the smoke curling off Noodle's body.
"Brennan's coming later today," she adds. "Now that he's rested. He's going to finish the job."
I nod. "Good. You deserve to stop leaking."
Katherine huffs a laugh. The room goes quiet for a moment.
Too quiet.
I know what's coming before she even opens her mouth.
"So," she says, gentle and piercing in that way she does—like she's trying not to press too hard but also trying to see straight through me. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"
I toss another almond in the air.
"Talk about what?" I catch it in my mouth. "Everything's great. Sunshine and rainbows and mild trauma. No big."
Elias groans, rubbing a hand over his face. "Lenny."
"What?" I raise both eyebrows.
"You brought down a mountain."
"Okay, first of all, technically Xaden helped. And also, it was already a bit wobbly. Structural instability. That's not on me."
"Len."
I sigh, and lean forward just enough to prop my elbows on my knees. "Seriously. I'm fine. Little dramatic wielding, little unconscious flopping, nothing we haven't seen before."
"You almost died," Elias says. "You passed out from burnout. Your body was covered in wounds—half of them from your own shadowfire. And you somehow vaporized a Maven. That's never been done before."
I shrug. "So? I'm an overachiever."
"You nearly killed every Venin in Basgiath in one go," he says, voice sharpening. "You want to explain that firestorm?"
"Nope," I say, popping the 'p.' "Not particularly."
Katherine leans forward, concern etched into every line of her face. "Len..."
I tilt my head, meet her eyes with a bright, empty smile.
"I said I'm fine."
And I am.
Except for the fact that every time I close my eyes, I see the way the firestorm spread through the battlefield like it was alive. Except for the echo of my mother's voice still hissing in the back of my head, praising me for what I did. Except for the way the power hasn't left. It's still in me. Still awake.
But none of that's their problem.
So I toss another almond into the air and catch it in my mouth, chewing slowly.
"I'm not going to fall apart on you," I add, before either of them can press again. "I'm not a child anymore. You don't have to worry about me."
That shuts them both up for a moment.
Katherine looks like she wants to say something else.
Elias still looks like he wants to shake me until I spill everything.
But I don't.
Because I can't.
Not yet.
So I smile again—bright and empty and sharp.
"I'm good," I lie. "Promise."
And the worst part is?
They still believe me.
Sort of.
The room's gone quiet again.
Elias is pretending to read something invisible on the wall. Katherine's watching me without blinking, probably counting how many lies I've told with a smile since I walked through the door.
I let the silence stretch a few seconds longer, chewing the inside of my cheek. Then I shift forward in the chair, elbows on my knees, voice too light to be casual.
"So," I say. "I didn't just come to check on your stab wound and bully Elias."
Katherine tilts her head. "You came to ask us for something."
It's not a question.
I meet her eyes and—shit, of course she knows. Of course both of them know. I never ask for anything. Not from them.
They go still.
Katherine's spine straightens.
Elias leans forward, voice cautious. "What do you need?"
I sit back again, buying myself two more seconds of mental preparation. Ponder the best way to lie. Not fully lie. Just... carve the truth into smaller pieces. Little digestible lies. Easier to swallow.
"I almost died taking down the Maven," I say.
That part's true.
I say it plainly, like I'm not still dreaming about the way his body shattered under my magic. The way my power surged and screamed and spoke.
"I felt my magic breaking when it happened. I felt me breaking." I look at them, sharp now. Honest. "If there are more of them—hundreds, like we think—I won't be able to stop them all. Not alone. The world will burn."
Katherine's jaw tightens. Elias nods, once, his hand still tangled in hers.
"What are your plans," I ask, "once you're healed?"
Katherine's brows furrow. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, are you staying in Basgiath? Going back out into the field with the rebellion? What's the plan?"
Elias answers first. "We stick with you. That's the plan. Wherever you go, we go."
My throat tightens. I bite down on it. Not now.
I nod once. Then force myself to ask it. "Would you go somewhere else?"
Both of them freeze.
"Not forever," I add quickly. "Just... for me. To help."
Katherine's frown deepens. "What are you asking, Len?"
I don't want to say it. I really don't want to say it.
But I do.
"I've been thinking," I say slowly. "My parents' estate is still untouched. All of it. The basement, the lab. Their journals. Everything they did to me, all their research—they documented it. They were obsessed with records. You remember."
Neither of them says anything.
But the air changes.
Heavier. Stiller.
I keep going, voice calm, controlled. "There's years of research. Magical theory. Bloodwork. Experiments. Some of it might be garbage, yeah, but what if some of it isn't? What if there's something buried in there that could actually help us?"
Elias's jaw clenches.
Katherine doesn't look away. "Help us how?"
"By understanding what they were doing," I say. Carefully. "Maybe they were looking in the wrong direction. But maybe there's something we can build off of. What if—what if there's a way to reverse Venin corruption? Or at least slow it?"
I don't say the word "cure."
I don't say Xaden's name.
They don't know. And they can't. Not yet.
Not until I figure out how to save him.
Elias still doesn't speak.
Katherine finally whispers, "You want us to go back there?"
"I want someone I trust to read through it," I say. "Not use it. Not restart it. Just read. I'm not asking you to do anything. I'm not asking you to experiment on Venin. I just—" I exhale. "I think it's a place to start. And it keeps you out of the field. It keeps you both safe."
Another silence.
I don't look at them. I stare down at Noodle instead, who's somehow managed to fall asleep curled around the dead flower he gave her. A murder-nap, wrapped in smoke and secrets.
Elias clears his throat. "I won't leave the field completely. You know that."
"I know," I say. "But if you go, just... check in. Come back when you can. Help when we need you."
Katherine turns to Elias. They look at each other, full sentences passing between them in silence.
Then she looks at me.
And nods.
"If it's what you need," she says softly. "If you think it could help... we'll go."
I swallow around the tightness in my chest. "Thank you."
Elias exhales hard, then nods once. "I'll go. But I'm not vanishing. If you need me, I'll be there. Any mission. Any fight."
"Fair," I say. "Deal."
I lean back in the chair again, pretending like the weight lifting off my shoulders isn't real. Pretending this wasn't terrifying to ask. Pretending I'm not lying straight through my teeth.
Because I am going to dig into the experiments. I am going to look for a cure.
And I'm going to start with the monsters who made me one.
They don't say anything right away.
Just watch me with twin expressions of caution and curiosity—Katherine quiet and steady, Elias all twitching muscle and sharp-eyed protectiveness. It's a familiar look. The one they gave me the first time I staggered into their home with more scars than skin. The one they gave me when I told them I didn't cry anymore because it just made the knives go in deeper.
Elias speaks first. "Why us?"
I chew my cheek again, then sigh. "Because I trust you."
It's not an easy thing to admit. Trust, for me, is jagged. Rare. A thing buried in blood and salt and shadow. But with them? It's always been different.
"You won't betray me," I continue. "No matter what you find. You'll read it, hate it, maybe wish you never saw it—but you won't use it. You won't sell it. You won't run to my enemies like you've got a golden ticket to winning the war."
Elias opens his mouth, but I cut him off, softer now. "And because you," I look straight at him, "were the one who found me in that house."
He goes still.
"I remember the way you looked when you found me. Like you'd just dragged a ghost out of hell." My voice is calm. Matter-of-fact. I've long since trained myself not to flinch at the memory. "And I remember the way you looked after you interrogated them. When you made sure they never got to hurt anyone again."
Elias swallows thickly. He doesn't speak.
"And that's why," I say.
Katherine lays a hand on his arm, her touch grounding. Together, they nod.
Not for the first time, I wonder if this is what real parents feel like. Steady. Relentless. Unshakeable.
Then Katherine tilts her head. "Why don't we just move the research back to Aretia? Somewhere safe. We could catalogue it under the radar."
I pause. That pause is just a beat too long.
"This stays between us," I say. Firm. Sharpened like a blade. "No one can know we're looking into it. Not Bodhi. Not Garrick. Not Violet. No one. Not even the Assembly."
Katherine frowns.
Elias's eyes narrow. "Why?"
"It doesn't make sense," he adds, slowly. "You're not careless. If you want this locked down, it means you're hiding something."
I smile—sharp and small and weary. "Of course I'm hiding something. I'm me."
"Len."
I sigh, then reach forward, pluck another almond from the bowl and roll it between my fingers.
"I think there are things in those journals—about me, about what they did, about why—that don't need to be seen by anyone but me. Maybe not even then."
Elias doesn't push. Not now. But the look in his eyes is old and tired and knowing.
Katherine's voice is gentle. "You want to keep your family secrets buried."
"I want to keep everyone else safe from them," I say.
Another long pause.
Then Katherine nods. "We can fly out by the end of the week."
I look up, meet her eyes. "Thank you."
She smiles, but it's soft. Sad. Like she knows too much already.
"I'll visit," I add. "Every few days. I'm practising long-distance wielding through shadowfire—still testing the range, but I think I can jump that far now."
They both blink.
Elias whistles low. "That's a hell of a distance."
I shrug. "It's just fire. Fire and will."
Katherine studies me for a second longer.
Then Elias asks, too casually, "Are you stronger now?"
I don't look at him.
"Since you killed the Maven?"
The question hangs there—heavy and awful.
And true.
I am stronger. And I don't know what that means yet.
So I stand. Smoothing my tunic. Stretching like this was just a nice little chat and not a covert recruitment into a secret operation to exhume the darkest parts of my soul.
Noodle slithers up my leg and onto my shoulder with a sleepy growl.
"We've gotta go," I say.
Elias stands too. "Len—"
I lean down, kiss Katherine's temple, and offer Elias a crooked grin.
"I'll check in soon," I promise.
Then shadowfire swallows us whole.
And I vanish.
The shadowfire peels off me like mist as I reappear in the woods just outside Basgiath.
The air here smells like pine, damp earth, and buried secrets. The kind of place nightmares curl up to sleep, not realizing someone worse is hunting them.
I'm whistling.
Something jaunty. Wrong, somehow. The sound drifts through the trees like a dare.
Noodle perks up on my shoulder, his eyes glowing faintly in the fading light. Smoke coils lazily off his body as he slithers around my arm like a living scarf made of shadow and teeth.
I glance sideways at him.
"Don't even think about it," I say casually. "You can't eat them."
He hisses—disappointed, insulted, hungry.
I grin. "I didn't say you can't chase them, though."
He lets out a delighted little growl, smoke flaring off his back like a spined halo. Good. He's in the mood for a hunt too.
Together, we walk through the clearing, moving slow, silent. I drag my fingers along a gnarled tree trunk, leaving behind a faint burn where my skin brushes bark. Not intentional. Not anymore. The fire's always there now. Ready. Coiled.
And they're always here, too.
The Venin.
Hidden like ticks in the folds of the world. Waiting for the next moment of weakness. The next hole in the wardstones. The next reason to strike.
But what no one seems to understand is this:
They're not the only ones who can hunt in the dark.
While everyone's been patrolling in straight lines and reporting to commanders like good little soldiers, I've had Noodle.
And Noodle has a nose. (I think)
He lifts his head suddenly, still and sharp.
I stop mid-stride. "You've got one?"
His smoke curls toward a patch of trees to the left—dense, brambled, tainted.
I nod once. "Good boy."
We slip between branches, over fallen logs and bones half-sunk into the moss, until we see him.
The Venin is crouched in the undergrowth, trying to blend in, but he made a mistake.
He looked up.
And I smiled.
He stares at me—human-looking, but not. Too still. Eyes too bright. A crooked grin spreads across his face, smug.
Until he sees my hand.
I flip my dagger between my fingers. Let my other hand drop to my side, loose and casual.
And then I ignite.
Shadowfire crawls across my knuckles like liquid night, hungry and hot. It dances along my arm, licking the metal of my blade like it's excited to taste blood again.
That grin?
It falls fast.
His eyes widen just a fraction. Recognition hits like a slap.
Oh yeah. He's just realized who I am.
"You've got two choices," I say, stepping into the clearing, voice light. "We can do this the easy way... or the hard way."
He runs.
I don't chase.
I just turn to Noodle and grin.
"Fetch."
The air explodes as Noodle launches, a blur of smoke and searing fire. His screech cuts through the forest like a blade. Trees bend. Shadows reel back.
The Venin doesn't stand a chance.
And me?
I just start whistling again.
Five minutes later, the Venin crawls into view, dragging himself across the forest floor like a rotted puppet missing half its strings.
Also?
A leg. He's missing a leg.
I sigh.
"Really?" I call out, arms crossed, watching him twitch through the dirt. "That's how you brought him back?"
The thing lifts its head. Its eyes—once gold, now a glossy black that seeps smoke—blink unevenly. Its mouth stretches open in a guttural, gurgling wheeze that might have been "hello," but honestly sounds more like a death rattle getting cozy.
"Unbelievable," I mutter, stomping closer. "You are such a little shit."
The body gurgles again. One arm flops limply. Its movements are jerky, unnatural. Shadowfire leaks from its joints.
Noodle has clearly taken the wheel.
I crouch beside the Venin-turned-meat-puppet and grab its arms, ignoring the wet, crunching noise that comes from the missing leg socket. "We talked about this. We said no eating these ones. We need them, remember? You are supposed to leave the functional parts intact."
The head lolls.
A faint, smug chirp leaks out of its mouth.
I close my eyes, sigh, and let the smoke rise around me.
"Let's go, you little shit."
We vanish in a ripple of shadowfire.
We reappear mid-whistle in General Melgren's temporary office at Basgiath. It's nothing special—stone walls, cluttered maps, stacks of letters, the perpetual smell of steel and political anxiety.
Noodle—still joyriding in the Venin's ruined body—slams his new toy onto the desk like a cat proudly presenting a half-dead bird.
The wood creaks. A leg (not his – Noodle's already digested that) falls off the table.
The Venin groans, something between a dying animal and a creaky door hinge.
Melgren jerks back so fast his chair skids out from under him and clatters to the floor.
Three generals standing around the desk jump like they've just been slapped by a ghost. One of them actually reaches for a weapon.
"Hi," I chirp, brushing ash off my tunic. "Sorry to drop in unannounced. I know I usually schedule my war crimes."
"Lennox," Melgren growls, straightening up with that rigid spine of his. "What the hell is this?"
"An opportunity," I say sweetly. "But you'll want some privacy for this one."
He's already frowning. The deepest kind. The kind he gets when he suspects I'm about to set something on fire that he'll be forced to explain to command.
One of the generals narrows her eyes. "Sir, we shouldn't leave you alone with a Venin. Or... her."
"Wow," I deadpan. "I'm right here."
Melgren looks at me. Then at the twitching, possessed Venin bleeding gently onto his desk.
"Is it alive?" one of them asks, recoiling.
I grin. "Oh, sure. Technically. But don't worry—he's harmless right now. Noodle's in the driver's seat."
Melgren stares. "Noodle?"
The body's head twitches. A thin thread of smoke hisses out of its mouth in what I've decided is his version of a happy sound.
"Yeah," I say, shrugging. "My son."
The horror in the room is delicious.
"Like a meat puppet," I clarify helpfully. "I mean, his aim is a little off—he's still learning how knees work—but he's got the basic-control part down."
The Venin groans again, louder this time. One eye rolls in the opposite direction of the other.
The youngest general makes a noise like he's going to be sick.
Melgren pinches the bridge of his nose. "Everyone out."
"But—" the woman starts.
He lifts a hand. "Out."
They leave reluctantly, one of them eyeing me like I'm about to explode.
(Which, fair.)
When the door shuts, I stroll to the desk and lean against it like I own the place.
Melgren glares at the twitching corpse sprawled over his paperwork.
I smile.
"Augie," I say sweetly, just to piss him off, "I have an offer I think you'll want to hear."
Melgren is so done with me.
I can see it in every taut line of his body. The clench of his jaw, the vein twitching in his temple, the way he stares at the Venin bleeding out across his desk like it's my fault the walls of reality are paper-thin these days.
He hates me.
Wants me dead.
But he also knows they need me.
So I smile.
Casually sling myself into the nearest chair like this is a morning tea chat and not an impromptu hostage negotiation in the heart of the military's war room.
I cross my legs, tilt my head, make myself comfortable—because nothing unsettles a man like watching a girl raised by monsters play house with his authority.
Melgren's eyes follow every movement.
"What do you want, Lennox?" he says, like it physically pains him to ask.
"Tavis," I correct, stretching just a little, shadowfire licking at my fingers lazily, "And well, I want a lot of things. Peace. Vengeance. Maybe a spa day. But for now—I want to make a deal."
His silence is wary. Calculating.
I meet his stare, all teeth and sugar. "You've got a bit of a hole in your intelligence system these days, don't you?"
His jaw tightens.
I keep going. "Darius Kasten and Burton Varrish—Navarre's finest. Your precious knives in the dark. And now?" I tick them off on my fingers. "One's locked in a cell, waiting for me to finish playing with him—torture, trauma, the usual. And the other?"
I make a little stabbing motion over my heart. "Violet got...stabby."
Melgren says nothing.
I lean forward slightly, elbows on my knees. "But still, I know something you probably don't: Kasten and Varrish were very interested in my parents' research."
His eyes narrow.
"Varrish always had a thing for my parent's experiments, and Kasten—well, he thought they were close. To something big."
"What kind of something?" he asks, voice sharp.
I lie. Smooth and easy.
"Kasten believed they were on the verge of a cure."
Melgren's frown deepens. "A cure? For the Venin?"
"Mhmm." I pop the 'm' like I'm discussing fashion trends, not biological warfare. "Not prevention. Reversal."
"That's impossible. If Kasten thought that, he would've told us."
I raise an eyebrow. "Kinda hard to tell you anything when he was busy kidnapping and torturing me, don't you think?"
The smile I give him is all edge. Sweet. Feral.
"Though don't worry—I returned the favor."
Melgren's expression curdles.
"He's a Navarrian operative," he snaps. "You should've handed him back."
"Should've," I agree breezily. "Didn't. Won't."
Silence.
But he doesn't walk away.
Which means I have him.
I sit back again, drape my arm across the back of the chair. "But I am willing to offer something else."
He doesn't speak, but I see the flicker behind his eyes. Interest.
I grin.
"Nolon worked for months on a signet blocker for Jack Barlowe. All to stop him from turning Venin. So why stop the research there?" I pause, letting the shadowfire dance between my fingertips like a cat playing with a mouse. "Why not continue what my parents started?"
Melgren's entire body tenses.
"You want to restart their work?" he says. Disbelieving. Almost disgusted. "That butchery? That wasn't science, that was—"
"You think I don't know?" I cut in, voice quieter, steel under silk. "You think I forgot what they did to me?"
He shuts up.
I stare him down.
"Their research wasn't lost," I say, tone smooth again. "It's secure. Protected. And people I trust are already combing through it."
He inhales sharply. "What people?"
I smile. "Don't worry about that."
A pause.
Then I lean in, let the smile fade just a fraction. "Here's the deal, Augie."
He flinches. God, I love that.
"I keep the research under wraps and give you anything useful. I supply the subjects—Venin I hunt and capture. You pick the location. Somewhere remote. Quiet. I'll even deliver them myself with a cute little Noodle shaped bow. We start slow. Controlled. We see what's possible."
He studies me. Like he's trying to see the trap. The angle.
Then he asks, low and grim, "You'd be okay with that? Experimenting on Venin? Like your parents experimented on you?"
I pause.
Then I bare my teeth in a grin that doesn't touch my eyes.
"For the greater good?" A beat. "Yes."
Melgren sucks in a breath, eyes narrowing like I've just confirmed every dark theory he's ever had about me.
"You're just like your parents," he says quietly.
My grin grows. "Maybe."
But I know something he doesn't.
I'm worse.
Melgren doesn't speak for a long time.
He just looks at me—jaw tight, fingers clenched behind his back like he's holding himself together with nothing but sheer disgust and the last threads of military discipline.
His gaze flicks to the twitching Venin on the desk. Smoke curls from its mouth in rhythmic puffs, and Noodle makes a wet little giggle noise that sounds like a dying accordion. Aw cute, he's having fun.
Melgren winces.
"I don't know," he mutters. "This is..."
"Wrong?" I offer, teeth bared in a grin. "Immoral? An affront to the sacred ideals of human decency?"
He doesn't answer.
He doesn't need to.
Because we both know he's not really hesitating on principle. He's hesitating because it's me. Because deep down, Melgren knows he's dealing with a blade too sharp to sheath.
"You want convincing?" I say, leaning forward just enough to let the room heat with my magic. Shadowfire creeps up my spine, coating the air in something hot and heavy and real. "No one had ever killed a Maven until Xaden and I did it. And there are hundreds of them waiting in the Barrens."
I let that hang.
"So unless we want to be digging our own graves in the next six months, we better find something better than daggers and wardstones." My voice drops. "We need a cure."
His frown deepens. "Assuming there is one."
"Then let's find out," I say, shrugging. "You provide the secure site. I provide the Venin. I'll hand over the relevant research, and you get a scientific team to start controlled testing. See what's viable."
Melgren paces, muttering under his breath. "A secure facility. No leaks. No rebellion interference."
"Sure," I say. "And I get unfiltered access to all reports, all tests. I help with the work. I participate."
That makes him stop short. He looks at me—really looks at me. Like he's trying to find the cracks.
"You want to torture Venin?"
I smile. Through gritted teeth. Shadowfire flickering along my knuckles. "I've got to work with one enemy..." I flick my gaze to him. "...might as well get my violent tendencies out somewhere else."
He doesn't flinch.
But his next question is lower. Slower.
"Do you think they're still human?"
The air goes still.
He isn't asking because he cares. He's a general. Death is math to him.
He's asking because I should.
Because this—this—is the moment I'm supposed to look at the edge of the abyss and decide not to step off.
Instead, I tilt my head.
Think about it.
And shrug.
"Do we have a deal, or not?"
His silence is long. Weighted.
"This could save everything," he says quietly. "Everyone."
I nod. "Exactly."
He looks at the Venin again, twitching, still barely alive, its face slack with shadow and Noodle's childish glee.
Then back at me.
"This is wrong."
"And you didn't care when you executed my parents," I say, voice razor-sharp, "or my friends' parents. You didn't care when you sent dozens of assassins to kill me before I even turned twenty-five."
I smile again. "So let's not pretend either of us is doing this for the moral high ground."
His jaw flexes.
Then finally, "I'll let you know within two days."
"Don't take too long," I say, already standing. "Science waits for no man."
"Don't tell anyone."
I pause at the door.
"Same goes for you," I say.
"And your rebellion friends?" he asks, voice cool. Testing. Digging.
I flash him a too-bright smile.
"Don't know. Don't need to know. This stays between us."
He glances at the Venin again, at the unnatural slackness of its limbs, the black in its eyes, the wrongness radiating from every piece of that broken body.
Noodle lets out a tiny, delighted burble from inside his puppet.
Melgren looks disgusted.
Perfect.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he says finally.
"I'm playing to win."
I reach down, pat the Venin's cheek—warm, damp, and wrong—and smile as the shadows curl at my heels.
I let the silence simmer, let Melgren stew in the weight of what I've just offered. Of what I've just become.
Then I coo, soft and syrup-sweet, "Alright, baby. Time to go."
The Venin's body twitches once more—an empty husk barely clinging to breath.
A heartbeat later, Noodle slithers out of the man's mouth.
Melgren lets out a strangled sound, something between a gasp and a gag, as the thick ribbon of smoke and fangs emerges from between the Venin's bloodied teeth, twisting and wriggling with unholy joy.
Noodle chitters, wiggling like a creature who just woke from a very good nap and is now considering chaos for dessert.
"Oh no," Melgren snaps, stepping back fast. "You are not leaving that thing here."
I sigh, already turning toward the window. "Augie," I say, exasperated, "he's not a thing. He's a very good boy. He only eats people who deserve it."
"I meant the Venin."
Noodle bounces slightly, gleeful energy building as he flicks his tongue toward the unconscious man, then toward Melgren... then me.
I smirk.
“Fine,” I say sweetly, tilting my head. “Dinnertime.”
Noodle screeches with delight—an earsplitting, bone-itching sound like a thousand knives grinding through teeth. His body coils tight like a spring, then launches in a blur of serrated smoke and gleaming fang.
Melgren jerks back so fast he nearly upends his entire desk. One of his maps flies off the edge, fluttering like a panicked bird.
Too slow.
The Venin twitches—just once.
And then he starts to vanish.
Not burn. Not scream. Not rot.
Vanish.
Piece by piece. Bit by screaming bit. Swallowed whole in four slow, methodical, ecstatic gulps. Chunks of corrupted flesh, each mouthful punctuated by a delighted chirp and a full-body wiggle that rattles the room’s shadows like they’re laughing too.
Shadowfire glides down Noodle’s spine with every bite, aiding digestion like dark syrup over a feast of sin. The corrupted magic in the Venin’s body fizzles uselessly against his power—like sugar melting in fire.
Melgren watches. Frozen. Pale. Horrified.
I watch, too.
And I’m proud.
“Good boy,” I coo, crouching to run my fingers along Noodle’s back as he licks phantom blood off his claws. He chirrs happily, tail thumping against the desk like a hellhound wagging for praise.
Then I rise, smoothing my coat, and glance down at him with mock sternness. “But remember what I said - you cannot tell your father about all your extra snacks, okay?”
Noodle blinks up at me, glowing eyes wide, smoke hissing out of his nostrils in innocent little curls.
“Because if you do,” I say, voice sing-song, “you won’t get dessert tonight.”
He chitters—offended.
I raise an eyebrow. “And Mommy won’t get an orgasm.”
That gets his attention. He screeches like he’s traumatised.
“Exactly,” I murmur, stroking behind one of his many not-quite-ears. “If Daddy finds out you turned a war criminal into a snack, we’re both grounded.”
Melgren looks like he’s about to vomit. Or scream. Or call the gods to personally smite me.
Instead, he just stares. Horrified. Stunned. Shaken.
Perfect.
I grin at him, the kind that never reaches my eyes.
“Two days,” I say brightly.
He opens his mouth—whether to argue, to scream, or to pray, I’ll never know.
Because the shadowfire curls around my feet like smoke from a pyre.
And in the blink of an eye, my monster and I vanish.