Chapter 13: Blood and Bone

Thorne jerked to the side just as Alina's teeth snapped down—narrowly missing the vulnerable flesh of her throat.

Pain exploded from the wound in her shoulder, the torn muscle screaming in protest as she wrenched herself free.

Alina snarled, her breath ragged, her lips wet with Thorne's blood.

There was nothing in her eyes—no hesitation, no recognition, just raw, animal hunger.

Thorne had seen many undead in her lifetime—some half-rotted, some barely clinging to cohesion, some more mindless than others. But none of them—not a single one—had ever been as feral as this.

And the worst part?

This wasn't supposed to happen.

The process—the tattoos, the slow accumulation of death mana—had been meant to preserve her, to stabilize her mind and keep her from decaying into madness.

Yet here she was, sinking deeper into the very thing they had been trying to prevent.

Thorne couldn't let this happen.

"Alina—!"

Another lunge.

Thorne barely had time to react before they went crashing to the floor again, Alina's weight pressing down on her, nails digging deep into her ribs.

Panic flickered through Thorne's mind. She needed to restrain her—but her spells…

Her magic.

It had failed before.

And if it failed again—if Alina was somehow repelling her control—then Thorne was fighting something completely new.

Something unknown.

Something dangerous.

Her instincts flared—pure, cold survival kicking in.

One of her hands shot out, grabbing for anything within reach. Her fingers brushed over a shard of broken glass—

Perfect.

Without thinking, she swung.

The jagged edge sliced across Alina's face, cutting deep into her cheek and leaving a trail of blackened, thick blood.

Alina reeled back, lips curling into something between a snarl and a cry of pain.

Thorne didn't hesitate.

She slammed her knee into Alina's stomach, hard, using the brief moment of weakness to shove her off.

The girl tumbled backwards, hitting the ground in a heap.

Thorne scrambled to her feet, her injured shoulder screaming with every movement. Her hand clamped over the wound, blood oozing between her fingers, but she couldn't afford to think about the pain right now.

Her soldiers—still standing, still waiting—hadn't moved an inch.

Why?

She had called them. She had ordered them.

Yet they remained frozen, as if something were blocking her commands.

Thorne's breath hitched.

She knew why.

It was Alina.

It had to be.

That snarl, the one she had let out earlier—the one that had disrupted her spell—it had done something.

Something to her magic.

Something to her control.

"What the hell are you?" Thorne whispered under her breath, her voice tight with a mixture of fear and fascination.

Alina lifted her head, her blank, glowing eyes meeting Thorne's.

She looked hungry.

And worst of all?

She wasn't done yet.