Chapter 9 The Enemy You Trust

Jules sat on the floor, her breath uneven, watching the ash from the creature swirl into nothing. Her blade lay forgotten beside her, her mind spinning from what just happened. The woman she'd spent weeks preparing to destroy had just saved her life not once, but twice. "What was that thing?" she asked hoarsely, cradling her injured arm. Selara stood a few feet away, still glowing faintly, her hair wild, her expression unreadable. "A Soul-Wraith," she said. "Kael sends them to scout. To infect. They're not meant to kill they're meant to weaken you before he arrives."

Jules looked down at her arm, where angry, black veins were already beginning to spread from the wound. Panic surged in her chest. "What is this?" she whispered. Selara dropped to her knees beside her, her hands glowing with pale silver light. "It's dark magic. Poison from the other realm. If I don't slow it down, it'll reach your heart before sunrise." Without waiting for permission, Selara pressed her palm to Jules's skin. The burn was immediate, searing like ice and fire at once. Jules screamed but didn't pull away. Pain was better than death. And deep down... something about Selara's touch felt like truth.

When it was over, Jules collapsed back, exhausted, the spreading black now frozen beneath a layer of shimmering light. Selara leaned against the wall, drained. Neither of them spoke for a long time. Finally, Jules turned her head. "Everything I've been taught... told me to kill creatures like you. But you're not a monster." Selara gave a weak, tired smile. "And you're not a mindless soldier." Jules chuckled dryly. "Don't be so sure. I've done things I don't deserve to survive." Selara's voice dropped. "We all have." That silence between them... it shifted. It was no longer cold. It was personal. Tense. Intimate.

Across town, Kael stood on the rooftop of an abandoned cathedral, watching the city below. His cloak blew in the wind, and two Soul-Wraiths knelt behind him, whispering the vision they'd seen. Kael's eyes narrowed as the image of Selara holding Jules burned in his mind. "So... the wolf tends to the hunter." A smirk played across his lips. "Good. Let her form attachments. Let her believe in mercy." He turned toward the full moon, eyes glowing gold. "Because mercy will be the reason she begs for death when I take it all away."