The fist came fast—like lightning, there one moment, gone the next—before cracking against his jaw. James barely registered the pain before the world tilted sideways, his vision bursting with stars. Desperate, he swung his sword down, but the Vessel was already gone, spinning away, a wicked smile curling across her lips.

  The rain redoubled its fury, hammering the courtyard in relentless waves. The wind howled through the stone corridors, tearing banners from their posts and rattling against the fortress walls. Lightning carved jagged scars into the earth, striking in erratic, furious bursts.

  The people watched in awe as their god played with her prey. Some banged their shields in rhythmic beats, others clapped their hands, while the cursed, steady drums—resumed their slow, insistent thud, thud, thud.

  And the Vessel reveled in it.

  She moved like a rolling thunderclap, vanishing in one breath and reappearing in another, her presence marked only by the storm itself. A fist to James' ribs, a boot to his thigh, a palm to the side of his skull. She was testing and learning. The woman she had been before—the soldier, the warrior—had been deadly. Now, she was something more entirely, and god inside her was perfecting her craft.

  She’s toying with me.

  James barely blocked a blow aimed at his gut, the impact forcing him to buckle. He rolled with the next strike to his shoulder, staggering but staying upright. He tried to predict the next hit and move before the lightning struck—but she was too fast, too precise. Even with the newfound power feeling right, it was like trying to wield a blade with numb fingers.

  He turned his face skyward. The moon was there—watching, waiting. Its soft, cool glow followed him wherever he moved, carving through the storm, and the tempest roared in frustration.

  Thunder cracked, shaking the ground beneath him. Wind shrieked, tearing through the courtyard, flipping tables, shattering torches, hurling debris against the walls. And through it all, the Vessel danced—light on her feet, as though she was born to fight.

  Her eyes burned with the storm as she struck. She slipped under James' swing, a flash of movement too fast to track. Right—a fist to his ribs. Left—a hook to his side. Right—another punch, same ribs, hammering into him like a blacksmith beating on steel.

  Pain blossomed in his side, spreading fire through his ribs, his body shuddering beneath the force. Her fists hit like a hurricane—heavy and unstoppable. Every impact sent tremors through him, breaking him down piece by piece.

  James staggered back, struggling to breathe. And the Vessel of Storms laughed. Hands raised in the air, spinning to face her people, her worshipers.

  "Is that all you’ve got?" she taunted, her voice vibrating with power, rolling through the courtyard like distant thunder.

  James wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and came away slick with blood. His ribs screamed, his jaw throbbed, and every breath felt like inhaling fire.

  She not even winded

  He tightened his grip on the sword, the hilt felt steadier now, less like a foreign weapon, more like an extension of himself. The Sister’s gift was still settling into him. He just needed more time.

  The Vessel didn’t give him time. She moved like a blur of motion. The storm itself made flesh. James barely lifted his sword before she was on him, her fist hammering into his guard. The impact jolted through his arms, bones rattling, forcing him to give ground.

  A left hook slammed into his ribs. A boot drove into his stomach. A palm strike sent him reeling. The world spun. His boots skidded across the slick stone, barely catching himself before he collapsed.

  Lightning struck.

  Not the sky—the ground.

  James saw it in the last second. On instinct, he threw himself sideways, rolling just as the spot where he stood exploded, stone shattering in a flash of white-blue fire. The heat kissed his skin, the pressure slammed into his back—but he was already moving. Already forcing his body forward—

  Toward her. This caught her off guard, and she stepped back, the first signs of fear flashing across that sculpted face. James came up fast, sword slicing upward, aiming for her exposed chest. The blade's tip bit into the cloth of her shirt, just barely. The Vessel twisted at the last second, avoiding a deeper wound. A thin line of silver split across her side—not bleeding, but sparking, and her smile faltered.

  James took the opening. He surged forward, his sword a blur. Slash, pivot, thrust. His body moved smoother now, the moonlight flowing through his veins and guiding his steps. He pressed the attack, keeping her on the defensive and forcing her to move instead of controlling the fight.

  She blocked one blow with the back of her arm. Sparks cascaded from her skin, hissing like metal striking metal.

  "You're learning." She grinned.

  James felt it a second too late. The shift in the air, the drop in temperature, the way the storm coiled inward, holding its breath. Every hair on his body stood on end.

  She had laid a trap.

  Her fingers snapped and with a crack of thunder.

  And James’ world exploded.

  Agony roared across his body, his muscles locking tight, contracting out of control. His fingers went numb and nearly lost their grip on his sword—a booted foot slammed into his chest, sending him flying backward.

  Through the wall.

  Stone and cloth rained down around him as he crashed into the storeroom. His vision blurred, his ears ringing. Sparks danced along his skin, between his teeth.

  Outside, the Vessel waited. Bouncing from foot to foot, energy coiling around her. Arcs of electricity danced up and down her arms.

  James climbed from the wreckage, boots crunching over shattered stone. The moonlight felt good against his skin, centering him. He exhaled slowly, feeling his foot slide forward, his blade rising over his head, tip pointed slightly downward—

  Earth stance.

  The Vessel roared. Her hands stretched forward. The lightning striking the ground suddenly redirected, flying toward him in blinding arcs.

  James dove. Making it behind a half-standing wall before the first bolt struck, sending stone and mud flying.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  Crack.

  The wall exploded. The force of superheated plasma hurled him backward through a support pillar. The ceiling groaned and collapsed. Large chunks of rubble crashed onto cultists below. A sickening crack. A wet squelch. Then—screams.

  James gritted his teeth, grabbing at the moonlight. He felt it steady in his hands. A beam of silver shot from his fingers, lancing toward the Vessel.

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  She only grinned and stepped aside, the beam slamming into the balcony above her. More debris rained down.

  Hells. People are going to get hurt.

  But the thought was distant. Foreign. Almost like it wasn’t his own.

  The Vessel hurled another round of lightning.

  James weaved between them this time, his movements fluid, his body falling into a rhythm—a calm drifting over him, like the moon on a still lake.

  A bolt rushed forward. There was no space left to dodge. James caught it on his sword, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent it hurtling back.

  She wasn’t fast enough this time. The bolt slammed into her crossed forearms, the impact forcing her back, her boots skidding across the ground, bracers smoking from the strike.

  James was on her before she could recover, blade spinning through practiced movements as a voice in his head called them out.

  The voice was deep and familiar. But fading.

  "Come on, boy. Keep up."

  Snake from the Bushes. A stabbing movement toward an exposed leg.

  The Vessel moved—but too slow.

  The tip of James' sword dug deep into her thigh.

  The blade sang through the air into the next movement.

  Hammering the Nail. A wicked overhand strike meant to cleave an enemy in two.

  The Vessel caught it on her vambraces. The impact drove her to one knee.

  She lashed out with her leg, trying to trip him.

  James swatted it away.

  Sun Over the Hills.

  "Your kata—"

  The sound faded. James' head snapped to the side, blinking—like something core to him—something fundamental—had vanished. The Vessel saw the distraction and lunged. Her fists became a flurry of motion, forcing him to block, parry, and retreat.

  A fist slammed into his stomach. His lungs emptied. The world lurched as his body rocketed into the air. And from above, he saw them.

  The people.

  Fleeing the courtyard like animals from a wildfire. Like something that would consume everything.

  And He didn’t care.

  James twisted in the air, muscles protesting. He shouldn't be able to move like this. But James was realizing—he was no longer human.

  He pushed off a beam of moonlight, sword stretched before him.

  The Vessel barely dodged.

  The impact of his attack sent stones flying in every direction.

  James watched as a chunk the size of a cart slammed into two fleeing guards, their bodies disappearing beneath its weight.

  But he was already moving.

  She came at him. A roundhouse aimed for his skull.

  He ducked, pivoted, turned.

  Lashing out with fist and blade in wide, arching strikes. Each blow fell like a meteor. The courtyard cracked beneath their battle.

  Walls shattered.

  Floors buckled.

  And soon, James knew—

  Nothing would be left of this place. They would bring it down around them. James slammed into the wall, the dark stone cracking beneath the force. A ripple shuttering up the tower, it groaned and swayed from the impact.

  He pushed himself up slowly, his gaze drifting—

  To a red-haired body slumped against the wall.

  Breathing. Slow and steady. One brown eye, one gemstone eye—both pleading.

  The Redhead mouthed the words: “James, please.”

  But James couldn't hear him.

  “You're good.” The Vessel's voice cut through the wind. James’ head snapped toward her. Her movements were slower now, more measured as if her energy was fading. And yet—there was something in her eyes, something bright, feverish, dancing like sparks in a storm.

  “You could still join me.” James' fingers curled tighter around his sword.

  “And serve as your lackey?” His gaze flickered back to the Redhead. “I think I’ll pass.”

  “As my equal. My partner.” The Vessel smiled.

  The wind roared around them, swirling with such force that trees were ripped from their roots and spun wildly beyond the broken courtyard walls.

  They were standing in the eye of a growing hurricane, and the terrible winds were lifting her from the ground, her arms outstretched.

  “Don’t you see?” Her voice was full of something terrifying—not rage, not desperation, but conviction. "We are more than these things."

  She pointed at the Redhead. James turned his head, and his curiosity peaked. The man was pushing himself up, struggling against the howling wind, but he was so weak and so slow.

  “They are so weak, so fragile." She rose higher, clearing the second-story balcony, lightning arching wildly from her fingers, slamming against the crumbling tower.

  Chunks of stone rained down around them.

  James only half-listened.

  Half-watched.

  The Redhead was moving again, step by agonizing step, fighting against the storm, his mouth open, screaming something—

  But the wind stole his words.

  The Vessel's gaze locked onto James.

  “Join me, Vessel of the Night and Moon .” James’ heart pounded in his ears. “Together, we can rule this world.”

  James caught his own reflection in a shattered windowpane. He didn’t recognize the face staring back. It was that of a stranger, with eyes glowing like a full moon and skin pale and shimmering like steel.

  “You could be so much more.” As though the storm itself was speaking now.

  The man reached him. Grabbed him. James’s body tensed, his instincts screaming to throw him off—cast away this creature. But something very small inside him cried out.

  NO.

  And then—

  It all came flooding back.

  Ser Edwin.

  Miss Silvia.

  Oakwood.

  The forge.

  Max.

  James threw his arms around Max, clutching him tight. And at last, the words lost to the storm finally became clear.

  “James. Brother. Come back ta me.”

  The clouds shifted, and the moon shone through once more. Silver light bathed them as they clasped each other by the arms, holding on as if the storm would tear them apart.

  James drew in a breath. Steeled himself against the storm.

  Then he threw Max aside and roared into the sky—

  “Go to hell.” A bolt of lightning, larger than anything before, slammed down toward him—

  James caught it.

  Felt it.

  And with a single act of will—

  He sent the power harmlessly into the ground.

  The Vessel shrieked in fury.

  The storm howled, boulders the size of carts hurtling toward him, the wind pressing against him like an invisible hand trying to crush him.

  James ducked, dodged, rolled—

  Think, think, think.

  A blur of movement—

  Max, waving his arms frantically.

  James' eyes followed—

  A toppled rack of spears.

  He barely avoided a tree meant to impale him, rolling toward the discarded weapons.

  His fingers wrapped around a spear.

  He poured his light into it.

  The blade glowed.

  James spun once—twice—three times—

  And released.

  The spear soared like a comet breaking through the night sky.

  The wind couldn’t touch it.

  James held his breath.

  Come on.

  Thunk.

  The Vessel had raised a tree into the path of the spear just in time.

  The impact shook the air, embedding the spear halfway through.

  But—

  James saw it.

  A tiny flicker of something dancing across her chest.

  She hadn’t been quite fast enough. The blade had nicked her.

  James turned to Max.

  “More.” Max nodded.

  Max dove for the spears, grabbing two and tossing them one after the other.

  James caught one in each hand, pouring more power into them.

  The metal drank it in.

  He spun again—

  Released.

  The first spear slammed into the tree, stopping well short.

  The second, James had aimed it just off-center. It flew through a gap in the branches—

  And pierced the Vessel’s shoulder.

  The storm shuddered. Lightning dimmed. More gaps split the sky.

  We’re winning.

  Something hit the back of his head—not hard, but enough to get his attention.

  James turned—

  Max stood there, wiggling his eyebrows, gemstone eye sparking.

  Arms full of spears. James grinned.

  "You're gonna get me in trouble." He held out his hand.

  Max tossed him another spear.

  The Vessel roared. Yanking the spear from her shoulder, the arm flopping limply against her side.

  She threw bolt after bolt of lightning with her good arm, trying to shatter the earth beneath them.

  But they moved together.

  Dodge. Spear. Throw.

  With every attack, her strikes became wilder, slower, and weaker.

  The wind howled, But the sky was clearing.

  More and more of the moonlight shone through.

  And James could see it now—

  Her power was fading. With trembling hands, she threw everything she had left into the tower, trying to bring it down on their heads.

  The weakening structure groaned.

  Cracks split through the stone like veins. Serious and curling, splinter this way and that. A deep, rolling boom thundered across the shattered courtyard. The walls buckled.

  James had no spears left.

  He turned to Max—who only grinned.

  “She ain't lookin’.” He cupped his hands and gave James a familiar wiggle of his eyebrows.

  James ran.

  Rocks began to fall, crashing into the stones around them. He felt his boot land firmly in Max’s hands—and half-lifted and half-thrown, he was airborne. Arcing towards the Vessel's exposed back.

  A sword of moonlight flared into existence in his grasp.

  He drove it downward.

  Into her back.

  Into her heart.

  There was no gasp. No scream. No final words.

  The wind died.

  The rain stopped.

  The sword of light vanished, and James grabbed the woman. He felt the magic leave her, the color fading from her hair and skin.

  And they fell together.

  The Vessel—or what was left of her—crashed into the ground beneath him. Her body, now human again, crunched and broke on impact.

  But James rolled with the momentum, his eyes already snapping toward the tower.

  He could feel the moon, its power still thrumming through his veins, pulling at him, calling to him.

  He reached upward.

  And pulled.

  Light erupted across the sky—

  A burst outward, like a halo, sending ribbons of green and blue dancing across the heavens, like torn banners caught in an unseen wind.

  The storm shattered.

  And the tower fell.

  James yanked the light toward him, gathering it, molding it, bending it to his will.

  Save Max. Shield me.

  Bricks—the size of cartwheels—rained down like meteors.

  A barrier formed from solid moonlight curved around Max and him.

  The stones bounced off, but each impact sent a shockwave of pain lancing through James’ body as if he were taking the blows himself.

  BAM. BAM. BAM.

  His vision blurred. The edges went dark.

  His knees buckled.

  But he held

  Everything he had wobbled. His body shook with the effort.

  Silence filled the air, and It was finally over.