“Alec, are you insane?!”

  Pain thrums at the base of my skull as I shove Eric off me and scramble to my feet. I storm toward Alec, fury burning, until it fizzles into unease.

  Something’s wrong.

  The storm he unleashed should’ve settled. Our pursuers were flung off the cliff: charred, maybe lifeless. But Alec’s lightning circle still crackles, arcs of electricity twitching around him like restless spirits refusing to leave.

  His breath comes in short, sharp pulls. His once blue-black hair is now stark white, strands shifting with the static that rolls off him.

  Then... his head lifts.

  His silvery-grey eyes lock onto mine. Still. Sharp. Storm-bound. Tiny lightning filaments crackle from his irises, branching like celestial veins, dancing to the farthest corners of his gaze. It’s almost beautiful, in a way that feels dangerous to admire.

  The air thickens. The storm inside him isn’t over.

  Alec raises his hand.

  I know what’s coming.

  “Eric, stay back!”

  The inscriptions on my skin ignite. They shift, rearrange, forming radiant golden armor that engulfs me just as the lightning bolt crashes against it.

  The force shudders through me, absorbed into the armor. I don’t hesitate.

  I rip the Tha-um inscription from my chest-plate; its golden-red light pulses between my fingers. With a flick of my wrist, I hurl it.

  The command strikes like thunder. Chains of radiant script erupt mid-air, binding Alec mid-lunge, locking every muscle with a force that answers only to Heaven.

  “Bind.”

  His body jerks. One final surge of electricity lashes out before the seal drinks it in.

  Alec gasps.

  His hair bleeds slowly back to black. His eyes flicker, once, twice, before dulling to their usual shade. He sways.

  I’m already there, catching him.

  He collapses into my arms.

  I ease him to the ground, breath shallow, heartbeat pounding. “I’ve got you,” I whisper.

  Then I sense him.

  The one who escaped Alec’s lightning.

  There, half-hidden behind a boulder. Eyes stretched wide. Spine stiff as stone. Not so smug now, huh? Just moments ago, he soaked in the drama like it was his front-row debut. Now he’s a breath away from shaking. Funny how fear turns performers into ghosts.

  A red mist floods my vision.

  I lower Alec gently onto the moss beside Jamey. “Watch him,” I command.

  Then I rise.

  The survivor doesn’t run. He should’ve.

  I march toward him, slow and seething. “You knew,” I snarl.

  He opens his mouth, but too slow.

  My hand arcs clean through the air. When it connects, the sound cracks like divine thunder—sharp, final. A ripple of golden light bursts from the impact, casting long shadows across the canyon wall. He jerks sideways, staggered not by brute force, but by something deeper: divine weight.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I grab his collar, yank him toward me. His feet drag across the stone. I strike again. This time, the glow from my palm lingers, leaving a flickering imprint across his cheek that pulses once before fading.

  “I remember you,” I say, voice low but edged. “You were at my house. You saw the lightning firsthand. You knew what he was capable of… and still, you chased them like they were fugitives?”

  My voice rises. “Were you hoping someone would die just to prove a point?”

  He lifts his hands, surrendering. Guilt already stains his face. “I didn’t think he’d go that far...”

  “You’re lying.”

  I step in closer. Close enough to smell the dust on his coat.

  “This reeks of a setup. You hunted Alec and Jamey knowing full well what happens when he’s cornered.”

  He flinches. Eyes dart. The bravado he wore earlier has crumbled, now he’s just a man trying to shrink out of his own skin.

  “A phone call,” I say, voice bitter. “That’s all it would’ve taken. A heads-up. A warning. But no, you went full covert pursuit, like you were tracking rabid wolves.”

  I let the silence stretch.

  “If one of your people dies out there, that blood’s not on our hands. It’s on yours.”

  He doesn’t answer. He can’t.

  I walk away without looking back.

  Pressing two fingers to the glowing inscription on my lower lip, I summon Sha-Viel, the Severance and Restoration glyph. It lifts from my skin like breath: gold-etched and radiant.

  With a whispered command, I release it.

  The symbol slices through the air like a blade of light. Mid-flight, it splits into seven smaller inscriptions, each pulsing with divine weight. They descend like embers, soaking into the bodies scattered across the ground.

  The men gasp, breath rushing back into their lungs. Color seeps into their cheeks, slow but sure, as if life returns grain by grain. Their limbs twitch, then still. The spasms quiet like thunder that’s spent its last bolt.

  Relief rises but only halfway. It snags on the lingering burn of anger.

  They’re alive. Good. Now I can question them.

  One groans. Another coughs. I crouch beside Eric, resting a hand on his shoulder with just enough pressure to be felt. Not comforted.

  “Stand back,” I murmur. The warning in my tone is thick.

  Eric rises, no argument. He stays close enough to react. He knows me well.

  The two worst off begin to stir, blinking like men dragged from drowning. Where their skin had blackened and split, smooth flesh now remains. Their gazes track us. Me, Alec, Jamey, and then lock onto me like magnets finding home.

  No fear. No hesitation.

  They drop to one knee, hands braced on extended legs, heads bowed in unison. Even nature quiets to listen.

  Then, as one, they speak. Steady, unwavering.

  “We greet the Living Scripture.”

  Eric and I trade a sharp glance.

  The assumed leader, a man with steady eyes and war-earned presence, lifts his gaze. "Who and what now? The Living Scripture?" I arch a brow. "And for heaven’s sake, please rise."

  As if I carried the authority, they obey instantly.

  The leader places a hand over his chest. "My name is Daniel." His voice carries weight. He gestures toward the others. "We are the Oathbearers, a faction within the Divine Tribunal."

  Eric and I look at each other again. Confusion, then wariness.

  "Oathbearers?" I narrow my eyes. "So you come from the same batch as the Judicars?"

  Daniel nods once, then shakes his head. "Yes. And no."

  He steps forward.

  I step back.

  I raise a hand; he stops.

  “We are bound by sacred duty to uphold divine law.”

  Eric grips my wrist. His voice is low. “I think it’s safe to say they won’t harm us, Oh Living Scripture but we should really find a better place to talk.”

  I jab him hard in the ribs. “Oh Living Scripture my foot up your ass.”

  Then I face Daniel. “Both teams. Home. Now.”

  ?? ? ? ? ??

  Later…

  Tension crackles in the room like it wants to set the furniture alight. Samuel and Samantha are particularly grumpy about their ruined vacation. The Oathbearers stand center, composed but alert.

  Daniel clears his throat. “I believe you were on holiday… until we interrupted. We are sincerely apologetic.”

  Silence answers. No one buys it.

  “We Oathbearers uphold divine law. Our presence is tied to recent events.”

  Jamey peels an apple with deliberate menace. “So… are you replacing the Judicars?”

  Daniel’s eyes flick to the knife before returning to Jamey. “No. The Judicars are up to something. They’ve made you a target. We’re here to protect you.”

  Jamey nearly chokes on his apple.

  Daniel continues, “The Divine Tribunal is made up of factions. The Judicars pass judgment but it’s the Verdictors who decide if that judgment is just.”

  A blonde woman rises. Regal. Piercing gaze. “The Verdictors use another faction to deliver justice, the Cindervows. We burn with judgment’s fire. But it’s the Gravemarks who leave the final mark of condemnation.”

  I hold her gaze. “I thought you were all Oathbearers?”

  Another woman stands, petite with massive glasses. Calm. Cold. “No. Elizabeth and I are not Oathbearers. I am Thania. I serve the Sentinels of the Divine.”

  She stands beside Elizabeth. “We ensure the Tribunal’s will is enforced.”

  Jamey mutters, “Funny, considering how the Judicars walked in like they own Heaven.”

  But it’s what Thania said, right before, that snags on something ancient in me.

  Unease churns deep.

  Are they really here to protect us?

  Or are we the fish… being blessed before the gutting?

  Then, from somewhere in the room, barely a whisper:

  “…the Living Scripture… doesn’t know… yet.”

  Everything goes still.

  Too quiet.

  A storm is coming.

  And I don’t even know which side of it I’m on.

  After the Storm... ??

  If your heart raced, if you paused at a line or reread a moment... then you're exactly where you’re meant to be.

  As for the Oathbearers… who do they serve, really?

  felt.

  The next chapter? It knows you’re coming.

  —Mandy H. ????