Chapter 80

Chapter 80
Half of the shifters erupted into their animal forms—a blur of fur and teeth—and charged across the battlefield toward us. The vampires, their eyes gleaming with predatory intent, surged forward to meet them, their movements like shadows coming alive. The two forces collided with a deafening roar, an unstoppable clash of power and fury, like waves battering against cliffs during a violent storm.

White and Faerry closed ranks around me, their movements fluid and precise as they formed a protective formation. Each fought with unrelenting ferocity on either side of me, their blades, claws, and powers holding back the relentless wave of shifters. Most of the attackers had fixed their sights on me—the prize in this chaotic battle—and two dozen of them surrounded us, tearing through their enemies to reach me. Oldy, however, saw his chance amid the chaos and came straight at me, his expression promising an easy victory.

He was wrong.

With a flash of my sharp vampire smile, I sidestepped his grasp. My fist shot forward, connecting with his jaw in a satisfying crack that sent him reeling. His head snapped back, and I felt the bone splinter under my knuckles, a brutal symphony that sang of his miscalculation.

Oldy staggered, glaring at me through narrowed eyes filled with venom. “Phia,” he spat, his voice slurred but his intent clear, “you’re digging a hole for yourself.”

I smirked, my voice dripping with mockery. “Sorry, old man, but you’re going in that hole first.” Channeling the gale within me, I flung out a blast of wind. The force hurled him through the air, his body slamming into an apple tree twenty feet away with a crack that rivaled the one in his jaw.

Turning back to the fray, I raised both hands, fingers spread wide, and summoned the tempest that churned within me. I pushed forward with all my might, envisioning a tidal wave crashing down upon the advancing shifters. My wind answered the call, slamming into the attackers with brutal precision. They flew backward, tumbling over one another, fur and limbs tangled in a chaotic mess. The sight of the tangled animal forms brought an involuntary giggle to my lips, a moment of levity amidst the carnage.

I had no desire to kill the shifters—none at all. This fight wasn’t my choice; I’d done everything in my power to avoid this confrontation. But Asshole-New-Jegh had forced my hand, and now the blood on the battlefield was on his conscience, not mine. Still, if it came to survival, I’d do what needed to be done.

My wind carried away the debris and left two witches exposed at the front—those dark witches who had gleefully helped kill Sharon. They’d been weaving spells meant to devastate the vampires, but now, their defenses stripped away, they froze, wide-eyed and panicked. Realizing the trap they’d walked into, they turned and ran.

But Diane and Paris were faster.

My friends descended upon the witches with unrelenting fury. The witches cast frantic spells, but my wind reversed their efforts, sending their magic hurtling back at them. Diane and Paris leapt midair, shifting into their wolf forms as they collided with their prey. Their claws and fangs shredded the witches in a savage, poetic justice. The witches’ screams filled the battlefield, but it was short-lived. Diane and Paris stood victorious, blood dripping from their muzzles as they howled in triumph. Sharon had been avenged.

Nearby, Jason and the Alpha King were locked in a brutal duel, their movements too fast for most eyes to follow. The two kings traded fists and kicks, their strikes resonating like thunderclaps. Jason’s claws slashed toward the Alpha’s neck, but the shifter bent backward in a near-impossible dodge, countering with a kick aimed at Jason’s ribs. Jason was ready—his fist crashed into the Alpha’s calf just before the wolf’s foot struck his side.

They were evenly matched—a revelation that set my nerves on edge. I’d watched Jason dismantle opponents far more experienced than this so-called Alpha King. Yet here they were, blow for blow, strike for strike, locked in a stalemate. The Alpha King’s speed and precision were unnatural, as though he’d been forged for battle over centuries. But he was young, no older than his late twenties. This wasn’t right.

Jason snarled, locking fists with the Alpha King in a test of strength, their muscles taut with effort. Their hatred was palpable, their glares burning with unspoken rage. But unease prickled at the back of my mind, whispering that this wasn’t simply raw skill. The Alpha King’s transformation into a battle god couldn’t be coincidence. Something was wrong. Really wrong. 

The answer came to me in a wave of chilling clarity. This wasn’t the lingering benefit of our broken mating bond—I would have sensed any power transfer between us. No, this was something darker, more calculated. Asshole-New-Jegh wasn’t just here for revenge or territory. He was here for me. He had tasted the power of being connected to me, and he wasn’t about to let that go. Worse, War wanted me for the same reason.

I squared my shoulders, the storm within me growing fiercer. If they thought I’d go quietly, they were about to learn the true meaning of chaos.

A grim realization began to take shape in my mind, but its implications were so dreadful that I forced it away before it could fully solidify. The mere flicker of the thought sent a chill through me, one I couldn’t afford to dwell on right now.

I turned my focus back to the fight, watching Jason and Asshole tear into each other again. Each time they clashed, blood flew and wounds marred their bodies, but neither showed signs of giving up. Still, my stomach churned with worry, and a tightness gripped my chest. The Alpha King was somehow exponentially stronger, his speed and power almost supernatural. Meanwhile, Jason, though unyielding and lethal, bore the scars of a century of diminished strength—an ache I knew all too well came from the absence of his Bride.

Smooth had laid it all out for me before. He wasn’t just a light mage of incredible power; he was a brilliant scholar, someone who had dedicated himself to studying the great players in our chaotic world. He’d dissected the history of Warren, the intricate web of alliances, betrayals, and power. Of course, Jason had been one of his most studied subjects. Smooth had explained how Jason’s grief at losing his Bride had driven him to the brink of madness, leaving him a shadow of the king he once was.

And yet, here he was, fighting with relentless determination. He moved with strength and precision, showing no signs of faltering, but the advantage that should have been his was missing. He wasn’t dominating the Alpha King as he should have been. They were evenly matched—a problem that needed solving sooner rather than later. Once we made it through this battle, there would be no more waiting. Jason might not feel he was worthy of me yet, but I would make the choice to restore our bond.

It wasn’t just a matter of survival—it was the only way forward. War was upon us, and this was just the beginning. Worse, if the second horseman joined forces with the Alpha King, the tides would shift in their favor. We couldn’t afford weakness—not in Jason, not in me, not in our alliance. Reforging the bond wasn’t just a necessity for him; it was something I needed too. Only Jason could soothe the ceaseless fire within me, ease the ache that pulsed through my body. It would benefit us both, and it was time to stop hesitating.

Jason and the Alpha King clashed again, each moving with impossible speed. Jason leapt into the air, claws extended, aiming for the Alpha’s head with a strike so devastating that it seemed inevitable.

For a split second, my heart stopped. Blood roared in my ears as I held my breath, my emotions a confusing whirl of anger, regret, and something unnameable. I hated the Alpha King for what he’d done, for forcing this battle and tearing apart any hope of peace. Yet, even as Jason’s claws raced toward him, I found myself recoiling at the thought of his death. Not like this. But it wasn’t my choice to make.