Page 63 of Shattered & Returned

The unspokenthenhung between us. When I twisted to face him, his eyes held secrets deeper than the gathering dark. My mind, still hazy with pleasure and the afterglow of magic, struggled to grasp at meanings that slipped like mist throughmy fingers.

Powerful enough for what?

The question sliced through my haze, bringing icy clarity. If he were the killer, shouldn’t he want me weak? Unless…

Unless the others had failed to become whatever he needed.

New magic simmered under my skin—not just wind, but fire’s kiss and water’s caress. And something that smelled of tomb dust and whispered of death.

My bones trembled.

“Show me more,” I demanded.

His smile was equal parts pride and predator. “Elements are child’s play,” he said, fingers grazing my cheek with surprising tenderness. “Earth, fire—these are just names mortals give to fragments of creation. True power is not about controlling elements but reshaping reality. And you, little flower, are the first and last Reality Weaver.”

First and last.What did he mean? How did he know?

His kiss stole my questions—hard, as his hips began their merciless rhythm anew. With every thrust, each wave of pleasure brought a revelation of my magic, now irreversibly part of me.

“Never show this,” he growled against my mouth, teeth sharpening on each word, “to anyone.”

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Bloom

First Blood

It didn’t take me long to realize there was no actual curriculum, just a free-for-all where students carved out their own paths. Magical gangs roamed the campus, each with their own rituals and turf, while most professors acted as little more than figureheads. Ravencrux and Kingsley showed up so rarely, I questioned why they even bothered with titles.

Classes were a gamble. No one knew what to expect next. But this morning, a slip of parchment arrived with breakfast, summoning all first-years to the Elysian Grounds for weapons training. Typical Forsaken fashion: last-minute, as if someone had only just remembered we were supposed to learn something.

“Have you had weapons training before?” I asked Sindy as we crossed the quad between the looming towers.

She adjusted her auburn ponytail. “Six sessions. I’m mediocre, but Kingsley’s brood?” A rueful shrug. “They’re practically born with swords in hand.”

Descendants of gods.The elite.

“What…what kind of weapons?” I asked, my voice betraying my nerves.

“Swords, mostly.”

My stomach dropped. Homeschooling hadn’t included combat training. The closest I’d come to handling weapons involved kitchen knives while cooking for Mom and myself.

I stepped gingerly into the enormous gym with Sindy. Students clustered like rival packs, their energy sharp. My palms dampened with sweat before we’d taken three steps.

Mats formed a patchwork across the space. Against the far wall, blades of every size gleamed on a long table, edges winking under the harsh lights.

Dante, one of Ravencrux’s hulking enforcers—and one ofmy kidnappers—clapped his meaty hands. The sound cracked like a gunshot. His gaze found me instantly. I narrowed my eyes at him, and his lips curled into a smirk that said,I remember how you squirmed.

“Form up!” His voice boomed off the walls. “No hiding in corners today.” The jab landed squarely between my ribs—he knew about my asthma. Dread rolled over my stomach.

I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing as he continued: “Weapons choose their wielders. Line up. Then pair off, or I’ll assign you someone. No magic. This is about raw strength, skill, and how well you handle steel.” His eyes pinned me. “Challenges are acceptable.”

No point begging for an exemption. Not from the man who’d wrenched my arms behind my back, who’d pulled that suffocating hood over my head.

Orren had earned my forgiveness. Dante would get only my teeth.

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