The Fatal Judgement
My best friend Seraphine had not one drop of blood left in her body when they found her.
Her skin was translucent. There were two dried trails of blood from the corners of her mouth, like she had wept herself empty long before the end.
She left one note.
One sentence: "Vera saw his face."
From that day forward, I became the Covenant's greatest sinner.
Because I knew who did it.
But I said nothing.
For ten years, I said nothing.
Then Lucian came back.
He was the one who had turned us, raised us, given us the only home we had ever known.
He set the Soul Prism in front of me.
"Tonight," he said, "you give me the killer."
His eyes hadn't changed. That was the worst part. After ten years of exile, of stones and fire and nights that never got warmer, I looked at him and he was still exactly who he had always been to me.
"Or you disappear from this world along with him."
He didn't know.
The reason I had chosen exile and starvation and a Blood Oath that had been eating my soul core alive for a decade — was him.
All of it, always, had been for him.