The Last Kin-8
The Obsession
“A predator backed into a corner becomes most dangerous. She will burn everything rather than lose control.”
—Elder Whisper, The Citadel
The officer stood in the doorway, helmet tucked under his arm, shoulders rigid.
He’d been standing there for three minutes.
Saraphine hadn’t looked up.
She sat at her desk, fingers steepled beneath her chin, reddish-orange eyes fixed on the map spread before her. Red circles marked locations throughout the Hollow. Notes scrawled in tight, precise handwriting filled the margins.
The officer cleared his throat.
“Magistrate.”
“Speak.” Her voice was flat. Clinical.
The officer shifted his weight, his jaw tight.
“The sweep, ma’am. There was—” He hesitated. “There was an incident.”
Saraphine’s eyes flicked up.
“Define ‘incident.’”
The officer’s throat bobbed.
“The target. Velira Orin. She was cornered during the operation.”
Saraphine’s fingers tightened slightly.
“And?”
“She—” The officer’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat again. “She transformed, ma’am.”
Silence.
Saraphine didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
The officer continued, his words coming faster now, like he needed to get them out before he lost his nerve.
“White antlers. Stag antlers. They—they glowed, ma’am. Her eyes shifted. Green. Bright green with gold flecks. She looked—” He swallowed hard. “She looked like the old paintings. The ones from before the war.”
Saraphine’s expression didn’t change.
But something flickered behind her eyes.
“Go on.”
“A serpent Veyloran intervened. Pulled her into a safehouse before we could apprehend her. We lost visual.”
“And Enforcer Dross?” Saraphine’s voice was soft. Too soft.
The officer hesitated.
“He was there, ma’am.”
“I’m aware.” Saraphine leaned back in her chair, her gaze never leaving the officer’s face. “What did he do?”
The officer’s hands tightened on his helmet.
“Nothing.”
Saraphine tilted her head slightly.
“Nothing?”
“He—” The officer’s voice dropped. “He just stood there. Watched her transform. Watched the serpent pull her away. He didn’t pursue. Didn’t call for backup. He just—”
“Stood there,” Saraphine finished quietly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Silence stretched between them.
The officer’s pulse hammered in his throat.
Saraphine’s fingers drummed once against the desk.
Then she stood.
The officer took an involuntary step back.
“You’re dismissed,” Saraphine said, her voice still soft.
“Ma’am—”
“Dismissed.“
The officer saluted sharply and fled.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Saraphine stood perfectly still, her hands resting on the desk, her gaze fixed on the map.
White antlers.
Glowing.
She’s manifesting.
The thought settled over her like ice water.
For twenty-five years, she’d hunted whispers. Rumors. Fragments of a prophecy that shouldn’t exist. She’d interrogated Beast-marked refugees, studied forbidden texts, poured over war records that had been sealed and burned.
And now—
Now the prophecy was real.
The Last Kin wasn’t a myth.
She was alive.
And she was becoming exactly what the Elders said she would be.
Saraphine’s jaw tightened.
Her hands curled into fists.
“Kalen Dross,” she whispered.
The name tasted like betrayal.
She’d promoted him. Trusted him. Given him access to intelligence he had no right to see. She’d looked him in the eye and told him the truth—that they were hunting something ancient, something dangerous.
And he’d lied to her.
He’d stood there and watched the girl transform into a guardian—into the very thing the Highborn had spent decades trying to eradicate—and he’d done nothing.
No.
Worse than nothing.
He’d let her go.
Saraphine’s breath came faster.
Her vision blurred at the edges.
She turned toward the window, her movements sharp, jerky.
Outside, the Hollow sprawled beneath her like a festering wound. Smoke curled from the docks. Lights flickered in the darkness. Somewhere down there, hidden in the shadows, Velira Orin was learning what she was.
Learning her power.
Learning to lead.
“No,” Saraphine whispered.
Her voice cracked.
“No, no, no—”
She spun back toward the desk, her hands slamming down on the wood.
“She can’t—”
The words caught in her throat.
Because she could.
If Velira reached her full potential—if she became what the prophecy said she would—she could rally the hidden Veyloran. She could lead them out of the Hollow. She could tear down the Citadel stone by stone and burn everything the Highborn had built.
She could start a revolution.
Saraphine’s chest heaved.
Her hands shook.
Twenty-five years of control. Twenty-five years of surgical precision. Twenty-five years of keeping the Beast-marked in the shadows where they belonged.
And now—
Now it was all unraveling.
Because of one girl.
Because of Kalen Dross’s betrayal.
Saraphine’s gaze fell on the glass paperweight sitting on her desk—a perfect sphere of crystal, etched with the Dominion crest.
She picked it up.
Stared at it.
Her reflection stared back, distorted and fractured.
“They think they can take it back,” she whispered. “They think they can reclaim what we earned.”
Her voice rose.
“They think one child with glowing antlers can undo centuries of order—”
She hurled the paperweight at the window.
The glass exploded.
Shards sprayed outward into the night, glittering like stars as they fell.
Wind roared into the office, cold and violent, carrying rain that lashed against the walls and floor. The curtains on either side of the shattered window whipped inward, snapping like flags in a storm.
Saraphine stood in the chaos, rain soaking her hair, her uniform, her face.
Her chest heaved.
Her hands trembled.
But her eyes—
Her eyes burned.
She walked slowly toward the broken window, glass crunching beneath her boots.
The wind tore at her, but she didn’t flinch.
She stared down at the Hollow, at the smoke and shadows and flickering lights.
Somewhere down there, Velira was hiding.
Somewhere down there, she was learning.
Growing.
Becoming.
“Not fast enough,” Saraphine whispered.
The rain ran down her face like tears.
But her expression was cold.
Predatory.
“I’ll find you before you’re ready,” she said softly. “Before you understand what you are. Before you can fight back.”
She turned from the window, her boots crunching over glass.
Her hands were steady now.
Her breathing even.
The mask was back.
But it was different.
Sharper.
More dangerous.
She crossed to her desk and pressed the comm button.
“Send in Captain Veyrik. Immediately.”
Static crackled.
“Yes, Magistrate.”
Saraphine released the button and stood in the center of her office, rain pouring through the broken window, curtains thrashing in the wind.
She didn’t move to close it.
The chaos suited her.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor.
The door opened.
Captain Veyrik entered, his reddish-orange eyes widening slightly as he took in the shattered window, the rain, the glass scattered across the floor.
“Magistrate—”
“I need prisoners,” Saraphine said quietly.
Veyrik blinked.
“Ma’am?”
“Veyloran. From the Hollow.” Her voice was calm. Surgical. “At least three. I don’t care who. Bring them to the public square and hold them there. Visible. Guarded.”
Veyrik’s jaw tightened.
“You want them as bait.”
“I want them as leverage.” Saraphine’s gaze locked onto his. “The girl will come for them. She won’t be able to help herself.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
Saraphine’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“She will.”
Veyrik hesitated.
“What do you want us to do when she arrives?”
“Capture her alive.” Saraphine’s voice dropped. “No exceptions. No mistakes. I want her breathing.”
“Understood.”
Saraphine turned back toward the window, her silhouette framed against the storm.
“There’s something else,” she said softly.
Veyrik waited.
“The Highborn preserved knowledge,” Saraphine continued. “From before the war. Methods the Veyloran used to corrupt their own kind. To twist their nature into something... darker.”
Veyrik’s expression shifted.
“The vaults.”
“Yes.” Saraphine’s voice was barely audible over the wind. “There’s a relic. Ancient. Sealed away because it was too dangerous even for us.”
She turned, her reddish-orange eyes gleaming in the dim light.
“It corrupts Veil magic. Turns it inward. Twists what should be holy into something... broken.”
Veyrik’s throat bobbed.
“You’re going to use it on her.”
“If I have to.” Saraphine’s voice was cold. “If she won’t bend, I’ll break her. I’ll turn her into exactly what the Veyloran fear most—a corrupted guardian. A weapon against her own people.”
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“The prophecy says she’ll lead them into the light. But prophecies can be rewritten, Captain. All it takes is the right... pressure.”
Veyrik stared at her, his expression unreadable.
“And Enforcer Dross?”
Saraphine’s jaw tightened.
“He’s a traitor. He let her escape. He chose her over the Dominion.”
“What do you want done with him?”
Saraphine was silent for a long moment.
Then she smiled.
It didn’t reach her eyes.
“Nothing. Yet.” Her voice was soft. Dangerous. “Let him think he’s safe. Let him think I don’t know. When the time comes, I’ll use him too.”
She turned back toward the storm, rain soaking through her uniform.
“Everyone has a breaking point, Captain. Even traitors.”
Veyrik saluted sharply.
“I’ll see to the prisoners immediately.”
“Good.”
He turned to leave.
“Captain.”
He stopped.
Saraphine didn’t look at him.
“Make sure they suffer,” she said quietly. “Not enough to kill them. Just enough that she can hear it when we broadcast the ultimatum.”
Veyrik’s expression hardened.
“Yes, Magistrate.”
The door closed behind him.
Saraphine stood alone in her office, rain pouring through the broken window, wind howling through the shattered glass.
Her hands were steady.
Her breathing calm.
But her eyes—
Her eyes burned with something cold and predatory and utterly unrelenting.
“You think you’re the savior,” she whispered to the storm. “You think the Veil chose you. That prophecy makes you untouchable.”
She smiled.
“But prophecies are just stories, Velira Orin. And I’m very good at rewriting stories.”
The wind tore at her, but she didn’t move.
She stood in the chaos, rain streaming down her face, and stared out at the Hollow.
Somewhere down there, the Last Kin was hiding.
Learning.
Growing.
But not fast enough.
Saraphine would make sure of that.
Every journey beyond the Veil begins with a single step.
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The story is only just beginning.