He breathed out, releasing dragons made from willowy cords of steam. The ice barrier fractured and crumbled onto the concrete, forming thorny, frigid dunes over pools of blood. Tiny shards from the impact bloomed out, setting Orion in the centre of a light-blue smoke cloud. It was cold, but he was a Zakari, conditioned to the cold.

“Jax…”

He didn’t respond. It stabbed at his soul, but he had to kill her. No one could know. No one.

“Jax...” she repeated, her eyes wide and head shaking in disbelief, “You’re a Zakari,”

Her shortsword slipped out of her loose grip and clattered against stone.

He breathed in, he breathed out. Steam billowed out, his heart cried out. He steeled himself and broke thought. He moved.

His fears were perverted into speed, his true speed. He became a spectre, his steps faint whispers, his speed like lightning. He gripped the hilt of his sword with sweaty hands, his blade awaiting the resistance of supple flesh. His mind obsessed with anticipation, the strike, the glorious strike.

It was here.

He whipped his sword up, his muscles straining. It sliced through the air and met her, her breasts, her neck.

Crack.

The sword flew out of his hand and he soared through foul air, using his feet to bounce off the wall before he smashed. He righted himself and turned.

She stood still, her now-stained maroon cloak covering her figure. Her tanned skin and pink lips were darker in the coppery light, but her caramel-brown hair and pale eyes were the same. She was beautiful.

He tasted a bitter build-up in his mouth and spat. She was beguiling.

“Fullhorn,” he said while his lips curved into a sneer. “Full fucking horn,”

It made sense: her pale eyes, her light skin but undue strength, her speed. But more so what his brothers had hinted about the House of Fullhorn, one of the four great Houses. Blood magic, they said, disguises, they said. Vampire, he saw.

Her bleak smile drew even thinner, barely a line. She said nothing, but the silence was proof to his ears.

“Do we have to? Do I have to kill you?” she asked, keeping her smile.

“We are the greatest,”

“And yet you’re the only dead House,”

“As you will be,” he barked, his voice booming through the hollow sewers.

Ice spurted from his right hand as he stared at Kora, forming a sphere. She lifted off her cloak and graced him with the body she hid so well. She was full-figured and wore leather trousers and a snug green jacket. She was dressed for a market-trip, not to hunt a monster. Blood drained out of the halved Korshi and began to circle her as she stripped off her jacket, revealing a thin white shirt. She was teasing him in both ways.

He growled and touched the swelling ice ball with his left hand. Ice flakes hurtled at her, barraging the blood-shield she had formed, chipping away at it. A few seconds later, Orion slapped himself. His pride was subconsciously giving her time to transform while he fronted an effortless attack, all because he wanted a fair fight. But he couldn’t let it be one: the stakes were too high.

Crouching, he placed his left hand on the ground and sensed the earth’s pulse. Right there. Wide cracks formed under Kora, building on each other as the earth sank, dragging her down and under.

But she leapt, landing to his right. And far away from her blood-shield: perfect. He turned his ice ball and began splintering it at her, each bullet fast enough to tear flesh.

She ran, escaping most of the shots and enduring the ones that hit. Her jaw had extended to her collarbone. It tightened her red-tinted skin and housed three inky talons the size of fingers. There were two curved horns ranging from her hairline to her ears, and her nails had been replaced by claws the size of hands. Her physique had become thicker and sinuous, her muscles flexing, her trousers skin-tight.

Orion followed her steps with his bullets, wearing down her skin and creating bruises. She circled his line of fire and made a beeline for him. She was fast, but he was faster. He dashed across the concrete with her on his tail, ice sprouting out of the ground to slow her. Bending low, he picked up his shortsword and turned, striking the blade against her face.

Clang. He stepped back and slashed again, only to be blocked by the claws. The clashes resonated through the sewers, ringing their ears, the stench burning their noses, the weapons nicking their skin, drawing blood.

He sidestepped and lunged, crouched and rolled, leapt and smashed. She clawed and swept, kicked and followed, dodged and scratched. They fought until he fell and she stood.

She kicked his balls and knelt over, blasting hot breath over his cringing face. Her ravenous teeth revealed themselves and she picked him up, putting her lips against his neck. He screamed and shook as she tasted and gasped, moaning with pleasure.

The blood of another House, so opulent and rich. Her body burnt the blood and released vast amounts of energy, her cuts visibly healing. She stared at her love bite, hypnotised by the crimson blood that trickled out over his milky skin.

Suddenly, he slapped his left hand against her waist and roared. Her pulse became his and her flesh, well, it became his to break. Her skin tore as she fell, gasping for breath as he froze her body, slowing her movement. He glanced at the emanated cracks over her stomach, showing upturned skin like icebergs in the Red River. His hands stung and burned from magic overload. Orion felt weak, his body threatening to topple any second as a vicious headache came over him. He barrelled over to his sword and stumbled back.

“You’ll die if you kill me,” Kora spluttered out.

He ignored her and held the blade over her neck. One swift strike.

“I’m tracked. The Fullhorns will kill you,” she gasped.

Orion stopped. He knew she was lying, but it made him remember the obvious: the Fullhorns would follow up on her actions, determined to find the cause of her death, to find him. Then, they would kill him.

He breathed in.

No, it was ok. All he had to do was hide her body in the sewers and run. He’d have to make another plan but that was better than dying. That was better than failing his, their revenge.

“I know why your family actually got slaughtered,” Kora said after seeing her words take effect.

He froze. The ambush, the escape, the shout, the coma, the conspiracy: all of it rushed to his head. He remembered his mum screaming, his sister’s image, his dad’s roar, his own weeping. It was too much.

He had one second of fear, pure, utter fear of his death and incompetence before he collapsed, her body breaking his fall.

…