Exitus (Emberhold Academy Series Book 4) by Frankie James

Author:Frankie James [James, Frankie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Self published
Published: 2025-12-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Reverie

I’m given zero time to prepare.

And no weapons.

The stands are packed shoulder-to-shoulder, every Aurathion who loves a spectacle perched on the edge of their seat. Today’s entertainment? The traitor who wouldn’t kill the Varruk at their demand.

I’m also pretty sure that his escape and the escape of the creatures kept for the amusement of the DF are being blamed directly on me. A surge of pride takes over, and my spine stiffens. I might die here today, but I’ve accomplished at least one thing.

Selene leans over the upper balcony, dressed in metal the color of spilled wine, smiling at me as if she’s already cut my throat. Seamus stands beside her, smirking, fingers curled around the railing as if he can already taste the kill. And fucking Kristine is sitting below them in the front row with the rest of her Faction, smiling like it’s Christmas.

Then I see Torren.

Tall, armor dented from training, jaw clenched. He stands with the other warriors, but his eyes never leave me—not once. Concern? Curiosity? Something darker? I can’t tell. But when my gaze meets his, he gives the slightest nod.

You’ve got this.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Without weapons, my only option is to use my abilities. Keeping them a secret at this point isn’t feasible. I hope my guys have a plan because once Selene sees how powerful I really am, I’ll be executed.

The gate lifts.

Metal shrieks.

Something snarls.

The Cryptfiends spill out like nightmares skinned and stitched back together wrong—elongated limbs, long fingers that end in curved claws—smelling like death and bad decisions. Several Gerendel followed behind them.

The crowd cheers.

I hear the whisper of chains behind me—guards stepping back, sealing the exit.

They want a show.

They want death.

Preferably mine.

The Cryptfiends move first. Not a charge…a slow stalk. They test the air, tasting me, hissing low and rumbling. Their movements are coordinated—wolves on two legs.

The nearest one clicks its jaw open so wide I hear the bone pop.

I could try to outrun it. Hide. Beg. That’s what they want, what they expect.

Instead, I stand perfectly still.

My pulse hammers. My blood heats. But something inside me rises—sharp, electric, ancient.

And then I hear a voice.

“It is time.”

The voice doesn’t come from the stands. It comes from everywhere and nowhere, whispered in a language that hasn’t been spoken in centuries.

The Cryptfiends heard it too. Their heads snapped toward me in unison. Strangely, the Gerendel stumbled back into the tunnel they had come from. Maybe they sensed that something wasn’t right.

My palms burned, and I couldn’t hold back. Suddenly, they ignited.

I curled my fingers to try and hide the shimmer, but sparks leaked between them.

Looks like the cat is out of the bag.

Selene leaned forward in her seat, her face showing the realization. Panic gripped her features.

Did she really believe that the daughter of Adelaide Hawthorne would be powerless? If the expression on her face is any indicator, then the answer is… yes.

The first Cryptfiend lunged.

My body moved on instinct without conscious thought. Heat roared up my arm, light flared, and when my palm met its chest, fire erupted—not wild—controlled.

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