Page 52 of King of Flames and Shadows

I press myself further against the shelf, shrinking back, willing myself to disappear, strain my ears, trying to place its position—but the echoes distort its direction, making it feel as if it's everywhere at once.

I know I should move, slip away while it's distracted, but paralysis grips me, a strange, gut-wrenching dread.

A chill runs down my spine as I finally catch a glimpse of it—a hulking shadow gliding slowly between the shelves, its form partially obscured by the darkness.

It's massive, taller than a man, its body distorted and misshapen. A beast fit to be the mount of a vengeful God. A thick mane of fur bristles along its back, and as it prowls forward, I catch the glint of golden, unblinking eyes locked in a gaze that pierces the darkness. My breath catches in my throat, terror closing around my chest as the creature lifts its head, sniffing the air, a faint scent of something dark and metallic curling from its mouth.

I pull back, keeping myself hidden, though every instinct screams at me to run. The beast lets out another low, rumbling growl, the sound curling through the air like smoke. My fingers tighten on the edge of the shelf.

Move on,I pray, though the Gods can’t help me now. They’d rather I die.Move on, leave, don’t see me—

But instead of heeding my useless prayers, it halts. Its head turns sharply in my direction. Its eyes narrow, gleaming with a strange, malignant intelligence as it sniffs the air again, as though it senses my presence.

It knows I'm here.

My heart thunders in my chest, every beat loud and betraying. The beast takes a slow, deliberate step forward, the gleam in its eyes sharpening, focused.

It begins to stalk toward me, each step calculated, predatory. My body remains pressed against the shelf, my mind a flurry of panic. There's nowhere to go—the shelves seem to close in on either side, boxing me in. The open aisle seems an eternity away.

The beast's jaws part, revealing sharp, jagged teeth glistening in the dim light. Its growl intensifies, a sound so deep it seems to vibrate through the floor. It lowers its head, readying to strike.

If I don't move now, I'll have no chance at all.

In a surge of adrenaline, I push off from the shelf and hurl myself toward the opening, then down the aisle, my footsteps echoing as I weave between the towering stacks of books, breaking into a full sprint. At my back, the beast lets out a furious snarl. Its heavy footsteps thunder behind me, claws scraping against the stone as it lunges for me.

I hear the beast tearing after me, its breath hot and searing, closing the distance faster than I can hope to outrun. Panic surges within me, propelling me forward. The open hallway is just a few feet away when I'm yanked off balance—the beast's claws have snagged the edge of my cloak, pulling me back with a force that sends me sprawling to the ground.

Pain flares in my arm as I skid across the cold stone, the fabric of my cloak tearing with a sharp rip. The creature towers over me, every inch of it radiating a dark, primal power. It snarls, its jaws snapping inches from my face, eyes glinting with the promise of bloodshed. I manage to roll to the side justas it strikes, claws scraping the stone with a screech. A scream escapes me, short and frantic, an almost animal sound.

Panic ignites something deep within me—a fierce, desperate need to survive. For a moment, I am a young child again, dodging rocks thrown at me in the street.

Survival is what I’ve always done best.

I scramble to my feet, summoning every fragment of magic I can reach, back to the wall. The power crackles beneath my skin, wild and electric, searing as it flows through me. With a shout, I release a surge of fire straight into the beast's face.

Flames lick across its fur, and it recoils, screaming, smoke curling from its singed muzzle.

But my victory is short-lived. The beast shakes off the fire, snarling with renewed fury, and charges again.

I stagger back, feeling the heat of its claws slicing just past my cheek. Forcing myself to focus, I dig deeper, the flickering flame of my power flaring once more. I pour everything into one last desperate strike, thrusting my hands forward.

A brilliant arc of lightning crackles from my palms, illuminating the entire library as it slams into the beast's chest. This is the legacy of my forebears—this is the storm within me, I realize.

The monster screams, its body convulsing as the electricity tears through it. In the flare of light, I see the raw ferocity in its eyes fade, dimming as its body collapses to the floor with a ground-shaking thud, smoke rising from its singed fur. Silence settles once more over the library.

I stand, trembling, breathless, as the last sparks fade from my fingertips. My arm throbs with pain, blood soaking throughthe torn sleeve, but relief floods through me as I stagger back, away from the beast's lifeless form.

I barely hear the footsteps rushing toward me, the door at my back wrenched open. When I look up, I see Arvoren, his figure dark and formidable in the low light, his expression torn between rage and something far more visceral. His gaze shifts to the blood on my arm, the smoldering beast, and back to me.

"Calliope!"

His voice is rougher than I’ve ever heard it, edged with fury. He closes the distance between us in a stride, his hand reaching for me—and then, his fingers are achingly gentle as they cradle my wounded arm.

"I'm fine," I manage, but the words come out breathless, a waver betraying the lingering fear and adrenaline.

"Fine?" His tone is sharp, accusatory, the anger flickering there undercut by the fear he can no longer hide from me, all his desire, all his want, his worry. His gaze searches mine, as if grounding himself in the sight of me, unhurt, alive.

The space between us pulses with a fierce tension. His hand remains on my arm, his fingers brushing the torn fabric, the rough warmth of his touch impossible to ignore. I feel my pulse quicken, each beat echoing in the quiet, heavy air.

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