Chapter Thirty-Two: The Devil and the Light

The house was still breathing.

Not literally—but in the way that something old and half-alive still clung to the edges of existence.

Skye had timed it perfectly.

The moment Tara slipped through the back, his own body had melted into the shadows of the ruined home, his presence dissolving into the remnants of Bailon's glamour.

It had been easy. Too easy.

Skye didn't need to create an illusion of his own—not when the house was still holding on to its last scraps of magic, twisting and curling like ghostly tendrils, its false warmth trying to cling to the edges of reality.

The DNHA was already here.

Their boots hit the marble in rhythmic steps, crisp, methodical.

No panic. No shouting. Just precision.

Because they weren't expecting a fight.

They were expected a young girl wracked with grief or a corpse.

Obviously, Bailon didn't fill them in about what happened in the Shade Territory. Figures.

Maybe Bailon didn't want to draw attention to himself by sending the whole army. Maybe he wanted to drag Tara's name further in the mud.

Either way, they didn't realize the threat was already inside the house with them.

Skye waited.

He stood perfectly still—his breath measured, his fingers barely twitching at his sides.

He let the glamour mask him.

Let it wrap around him like a second skin, letting it flicker between the present and the past.

The soldiers passed him without a glance.

One of them stopped near the grand staircase, frowning slightly.

"Doesn't feel like an active site," he muttered. "Are we sure she was here?"

The squad leader exhaled sharply. "The president ordered us to confirm. If Stele's kid was here, she's likely still nearby."

Skye smiled.

They wouldn't find her.

Not unless she wanted to be found.

And right now—she was already long gone.

⸻

Skye shifted slightly, adjusting his stance.

One of the soldiers turned—just slightly—and then Skye let his power slip.

Not enough to be obvious.

Not enough for them to pinpoint.

Just enough to make them doubt.

The glamour trembled.

The walls seemed to ripple, the edges of the pristine illusion warping, blurring.

The lighting above them flickered.

Then—bent.

Not like a normal electrical glitch.

Not like anything that made sense.

It stretched. Elongated.

Like something was moving in the walls.

One of the soldiers inhaled sharply. "What the hell—"

The others tensed.

Their gazes snapped to the shadows.

And Skye twisted the fear.

He didn't need to summon creatures.

Didn't need to throw shadows.

All he did was let their own minds fill in the blanks.

Shapes flickered at the edges of their vision.

Something just beyond the hallway.

A figure. Watching.

One soldier let out a shaky breath.

Another took a step back.

"Do you feel that?"

"Shut up," the leader muttered. "It's just the house."

But his voice wavered.

Good.

That was all Skye needed.

He took one silent step backward.

Then another.

His presence disappeared completely as he slipped through a shattered doorway, melting into the night.

The soldiers never knew he was there.

⸻

The Middle Order had always been a place of precision.

A city that pretended it wasn't built on control.

A city that smiled as it suffocated you.

Skye had never spent much time here, but he didn't need to.

He understood places like this.

They weren't built for peace.

They were built to keep people in check.

The streets were too neat, too perfect. The roads were lined with smooth stone pathways, dotted with carefully maintained trees that never truly grew.

Nothing here was ever left untamed.

And that made it the perfect place to get lost in.

Because when everything looked the same, people stopped noticing.

Skye kept his hood drawn low, his presence dialed down just enough to slip past the streets unnoticed.

He was looking for them.

The others.

Tara had gone ahead—disguised, small, unassuming.

He needed to make sure the rest of them weren't being equally reckless.

Landon's group was supposed to be gathering intelligence. That's where he was heading.

Not because he particularly wanted to see Landon.

But because he had questions.

⸻

He found them near the edge of the market.

Ballad was leaning casually against a stack of cargo, watching the crowds with practiced ease.

Lottie wasn't far, arms crossed, teeth worrying at the inside of her cheek.

And Landon—

Landon was tense.

Hands braced against his rifle strap.

Jaw tight.

He saw Skye first.

His eyes narrowed slightly, assessing. "You're late."

Skye tilted his head slightly. "I was occupied."

Landon's grip tightened. "Where is she?"

"She's safe."

Landon exhaled sharply. "And you just left her?"

Skye smirked.

"Not quite."

Landon stiffened. "What does that mean?"

Skye shrugged, stepping forward.

"I made sure she got out," he said easily. "And I had some fun along the way."

Ballad arched a brow. "You mean you messed with the soldiers, don't you?"

Skye's smirk deepened. "Maybe."

Landon wasn't amused.

"This isn't a game, Skye."

"I never said it was."

Landon scowled. "You—"

"I saw her past."

The words slipped out too easily.

Landon's expression shut down instantly.

Skye watched him carefully.

Let the words settle.

Landon didn't like that Skye knew something he didn't.

And Skye enjoyed watching him realize it.

"I saw things you never did," Skye murmured. "I saw her at thirteen, summoning crows in the foyer. I saw her at sixteen, flickering through faces in the mirror."

Landon's breath hitched.

Skye leaned in slightly.

"I saw her when her powers first came in. I saw how much she was afraid of them. And I saw—" His voice lowered. "—how much she wasn't."

Landon's fists clenched.

And that was what Skye had wanted.

Not to gloat.

Not to taunt.

But to make Landon understand.

To make him realize that Tara was slipping out of his hands.

She wasn't the girl he thought he could save.

She never had been.

And now, she was becoming something else entirely.

Landon's voice was tight. "She's still Tara."

Skye smiled.

"Then why are you afraid?"

Landon had no answer.

Because they both knew the truth.

Tara was changing.

And Skye wasn't afraid of what she was becoming.

But Landon was.

And that made all the difference.