Page 30 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
"So," he said, his voice carrying the rumble of his dragon form even in human shape. "You're the shadow mage who stole my mate."
His mate,the shadows screamed.He dares to claim what is yours!
The rage that followed was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It wasn't just my own jealousy and possessiveness—it was the accumulated hunger of generations of shadow magic, fed by every dark impulse that had ever whispered through the mountain's stone. I felt my control shatter like glass, felt the darkness pour out of me with enough force to crack the containment stones lining the walls.
"She is mine," I snarled, my voice carrying harmonics that made the very air vibrate with malevolent energy. "Mine by conquest, mine by bond, mine by choice. You have no claim here, dragon."
The shifter smiled, and there was nothing pleasant in the expression. "No claim? Boy, I was her mate when you were still learning to hide from your own shadow. I shared her bed, her heart, her very soul. What have you given her except a cage made of silk and darkness?"
The shadows exploded outward with enough force to shatter the light orbs in the corridor beyond. In the sudden darkness, I felt my human shape begin to waver as the shadow magic consumed what remained of my self-control. This creature had touched Livia, had known her body in ways I was only beginning to explore. He had been her first choice, her willing choice, and she would choose him again if given the chance.
Kill him,the darkness roared.Tear him apart. Show him what happens to those who challenge a shadow mage's claim.
I was moving before conscious thought could intervene, shadow-enhanced strength propelling me forward with inhuman speed. Sirrax met my charge with the reflexes of atrained warrior, but he was unarmed and confined in a space too small for him to shift forms. My hands found his throat, and I felt the satisfying give of flesh beneath my fingers as the shadows poured their strength into my grip.
"Taveth, stop!" Malachar's voice seemed to come from very far away, barely audible over the roaring in my ears. "You're going to kill him!"
Yes,the shadows whispered.Kill him. End the threat he represents. Ensure that Livia has no choice but to remain with you.
But even as my fingers tightened, even as I felt Sirrax's struggles growing weaker, something slammed into me from the side with enough force to send me sprawling across the stone floor. The impact broke my grip on the dragon-shifter, and I rolled to my feet with shadows writhing around me like living serpents, ready to tear apart whoever had dared interfere.
"Leave him alone!"
The voice that rang out was my own—but not my own. I spun toward the sound, my vision still clouded with rage and shadow magic and saw the second prisoner advancing on me with his fists raised. He was moving to place himself between me and Sirrax, his posture protective, defiant.
And his face...
The shadows fell silent for the first time in months, their whispers dying away as if they had been severed by a blade. In the sudden quiet of my own mind, I could hear my heart beating, could feel the weight of recognition settling over me like a physical thing.
The face that met mine was my own.
Not similar—not the kind of family resemblance that might be explained by distant kinship or coincidence. It was my face exactly, down to the smallest detail. The same bone structure, the same shape of eyes and mouth. The only differences were hisshorter hair, and those wide black eyes. Where my white ones carried the weight of whispers and madness, his held a clarity and strength that I hadn't felt in years.
I staggered backward, my legs suddenly too weak to support my weight. The shadows that had been my constant companions retreated to the farthest corners of the cell, as if even they recognized the magnitude of this moment.
The man before me—this complete stranger who wore my face—looked equally shaken. We stood frozen, studying each other's faces with the desperate intensity of men trying to solve an impossible puzzle. Every detail was identical—the shape of our eyes, the line of our jaws, even the small scar on the left temple that I had carried since childhood. The only differences were his longer hair and the absence of shadow-marks that had begun to etch themselves into my skin.
"This is impossible," he breathed. "You look exactly like me."
"How?" I managed, my voice cracking. "How do you look like me?"
Behind him, Sirrax had gone very still, his golden eyes moving between us with growing understanding. "Gods," he breathed. "Identical. Apart from eyes."
"But that doesn't make sense," the stranger said, his voice rising with confusion and something that might have been panic. "People don't just... look like other people. Not like this."
"Who are you?" I demanded. He shook his head, still staring at me, and I felt the frustration and shock explode out of me once again as she shadows ricocheted around the room
“WHO ARE YOU?”
11
The corridors beneath the temple seemed to stretch endlessly into darkness, each stone step echoing with the weight of centuries. I had been wandering for what felt like hours, driven by a restless energy that wouldn't let me sit still in my chambers. The opulent rooms Taveth had provided felt more like a beautiful cage with each passing day, and I needed to understand this place, these people, and the man who claimed to love me while holding me prisoner.
The air grew colder as I descended, thick with the scent of damp that seemed to cling to my skin along with something visceral that made my skin crawl with unease. Ancient symbols were carved deep into the stone walls, their meanings lost to me, but their presence felt watchful, malevolent. The shadows here seemed alive, writhing and shifting at the edges of my vision in ways that had nothing to do with the flickering torchlight. I was about to turn back when I heard footsteps ahead, accompanied by the soft clink of metal against stone. A young man emerged from around a corner, carrying a tray laden with simple food and water, his warm yet simple clothing marking him out as a templeworker rather than one of the priests. He stopped short when he saw me, nearly dropping his burden. "My lady! You shouldn't be down here. These levels are... they're not safe."
"I'm sorry," I said, stepping closer. "I was exploring and got turned around. I'm Livia."
His eyes widened slightly. "Everyone knows who you are, my lady. I'm Patir." He shifted the tray nervously. "But truly, you should return to the upper levels. Lord Taveth wouldn't want you here."
