Page 136 of Kingdom of Chaos
The stillness here is oppressive. It’s too still for Central Park. No rustle of wind. No distant hum of traffic. Just the pounding of my own heartbeat and the whisper of my boots in the grass.
I’m early. That was the plan: to arrive first, find my footing, and gather myself so that I’m ready when I face him.
But the silence doesn’t last.
Without warning, the air shifts, charged with a pulse of magic that raises goosebumps along my arms and neck. My breath catches as a ripple distorts the air across from me. Then, like a nightmare stepping through a veil, Kerrim appears.
Not approaching. Not emerging. Just there, ten paces in front of me, his presence hitting like a cold gust of wind to the chest.
He looks the same. And yet . . . not.
The man I once knew is still there: sharply dressed, peppered hair slicked back, dark eyes behind dark-rimmed glasses. But something about him has shifted. His frame seems broader, as if the magic swelling inside him has reshaped him to better contain it. His skin carries an unnatural sheen, catching the moonlight in a way that makes him look almost otherworldly. And clenched in one hand, Shadow Striker.
I’ve known Kerrim for years. I trusted him. The man standing before me now feels like a stranger. A very dangerous one.
He was always power hungry, that much I knew. It’s what drove him to steal Shadow Striker and bring it to the human world. But this? This feels like more than ambition. The madness in his eyes, the way he moves, the shift in his presence. I start to wonder if the old rumors about the dagger warping the mind of its wielder are true—the more power it gives, the more it takes in return.
A slow smile curves Kerrim’s lips as he tilts his head, eyes glinting like cut glass in the moonlight.
“Well,” he says, voice smooth and familiar; there’s a razor’s edge to it now that wasn’t there before. “You always were the punctual one.”
“Actually, you’re early,” I say, my tone flat, wary.
“Am I?” he replies, deceptively mild. His gaze sweeps over me, calm and calculated, as if he’s already figured out the entire game and is simply waiting for me to realize it too. “Funny, I thought I was late to your little ambush.”
My stomach tightens.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he continues, taking a measured step forward. “You think I didn’t know what you were planning? That your little friends could sneak around undetected in my city?” He shakes his head. “No, Locklyn. I’m afraid they’re already being handled.”
A chill skitters down my spine, but I can’t help the instinctive glance I cast toward the tree line where I know Talon is hidden.
“Oh, I wouldn’t expect any help from there,” Kerrim says, making a lowtsking sound. “You see, I’ve been picking up some very powerful allies since I arrived in this world. And with Shadow Striker, I’ve developed some rather interesting magic.”
He smiles, cold and triumphant. “Right now, all anyone sees is you, standing here alone, waiting for a confrontation to begin. But really, it’ll be over before they even realize it’s started.”
I take a step back, conceding ground to keep distance between us. “Where’s Ensley?” I ask, panic rising fast in my chest, sharp, urgent, impossible to hold back any longer.
“She’s around,” he says casually, lifting a hand to gesture toward the darkness beyond the clearing.
“You were supposed to bring her here.”
“And you were supposed to come alone,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.
His grip tightens around Shadow Striker, and I don’t miss the way his stance shifts, like he’s ready to strike.
“Okay, fine. So we both broke the rules,” I say quickly, trying to buy myself some time. At least long enough to figure out where he’s keeping Ensley. “Just bring her here and we can move forward as planned.”
He cocks his head in that birdlike way, a subtle reminder of the hawk shifter he is, but tonight there’s a wildness under the surface. A feral wrongness that makes my insides twist.
“And why would I do that,” he says, his voice silk over steel, “when I already have what I came here for? You.”
A chill races down my spine, but I hold my ground, forcing myself not to flinch beneath his twisted smile. His eyes gleam with cold satisfaction as he takes a slow step forward, Shadow Striker in his grip.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” he says, voice almost pitying. “Oh, Locklyn, don’t you realize? You didn’t come here to surrender . . . but to die.”
Before I can form a response, the night splits open with a thunderous boom. A flash of blue light streaks across the sky. Not above the city, but within the magical dome the Order cast to shield the park, similar to the one that Kerrim placed over the ruins for the final Chaos trial. The barrier flares in reaction, its surface shimmering like heat waves on asphalt.
A split second later, a ripple of crackling magic rolls through the dome, slamming into the earth with a low, vibrating thrum that rattles in my bones. The ground quakes beneath my feet.
