Rokath devoured me with the obsession of a male possessed. His craving insatiable as his tongue slid against mine. A growl vibrated in his chest as he yanked me flush, fingers digging into my hips with beautiful brutality.

I welcomed it. Breathed him in. Drank him down.

Because he was right—the path to pure peace was not one beneath the sun. It would be clawed through darkness. With Demon society in upheaval, with the changes that would follow the treaty too, people were sure to resist.

But despite all that, Rokath and I had defied death. We’d lived through what had killed so many. And someday, long after the war had been laid to rest, the world would know our names. Not as rulers of realms, but as mates made for war and peace.

Beneath a burning canopy, we came together—shadow-cloaked, battle-worn, and alive. In the ashes of what we’d flamed, in the breath between battles, we did the most dangerous thing two people could do in the midst of war.

We chose to love.

You didn’t think I’d give you all the answers to An Age of War and Prophecy at the end of this book, did you?

The war is far from over. The lies run deeper than you can imagine. And the ones who waited on the fringes in the Deathcaller Duet?

Some of them are already sharpening their knives.

Power never disappears; it rearranges.

Loyalties will fracture. Blood will spill.

The truth?

The end will ruin someone. Maybe more than one…

So step carefully into And So The Breaking Begins.

The betrayals are just getting started.

The first chapter waits for you on the next page.

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Sylaira

The first time I Saw my fated mate, I was only one hundred and eleven. Far too young for my power to have taken root. Far too young to have my heart shattered into a thousand pieces with the knowledge that if he ever found me, he’d rob me of everything I held dear.

Unlike most Angels, his hair was an iron gray. His brows, so serious, with one jagged scar, were a dark contrast to the glacial hue of the orbs beneath them. I knew not who he was, only that his piercing gaze penetrated my own and choked me of air.

I’d returned to reality screaming into the darkness.

I never wanted to meet him.

Whoever he was.

Sight was supposed to be the holiest blessing from the Goddess. I thought it was a curse. Especially with my eyes—an icy shade of blue that signified a level of power that surpassed most other Angels. Once my prophecies had worsened, growing dark, twisted, tormented, I’d begged my parents to allow me to consume virelthorn to suppress them.

Absently, I rubbed my chest as if I could ease the ache of everything forced upon me. Sometimes, I was almost tempted to snatch at the threads of my visions, to discern where he might be so that I might situate myself on the farthest side of the world from him.

“Sylaira,” Heraphia hissed, drawing me out of the haze of anger and back to reality.

I blinked, realizing I’d nearly scrubbed the skillet clean through. “Sorry,” I breathed, dropping it and the brush into the washbasin. Water sloshed, frothing the soap bubbles and wafting citrus into the air. I turned to face my oldest friend, shoulders slumping inward.

Only to find aquamarine eyes wide with fright and scouring mine. My heart leaped into my throat. “What’s happened?”

Heraphia swallowed, a hand hovering over her heart. “I think we need to move.”

I took a tentative step forward, the dishes forgotten. “Have you had a vision?”

Like me, Heraphia was blessed with Sight. Her eye color was only a shade weaker than my own, which made her—both of us—a great prize for the rulers of the Angels. For decades, we’d hidden from the crown. I’d lost my parents, countless friends, and dozens of others in raids on the few havens the Elessarum had managed to carve out in the fringes of the Angel Realm. The Koron and Korona wanted the Seers to wield like weapons of war.

I wanted no part in their violence. In their bloodshed. The loss of life was utterly unnecessary. I’d spent my life among the peaceful organization, and I’d do whatever it took to ensure my hands remained unstained by ruby.

Except see.

Heraphia didn’t take virelthorn to suppress her visions. Three times now, she’d had a flash of knowing a day before hunters for the Korona would arrive in whatever village of insignificance we’d rooted ourselves.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice shivering despite the heat of the summer.

“When?” I pressed, fear scorching my veins. We’d only just settled in here. But the bounty for reporting members of the Elessarum had doubled since the Demons invaded the Angel’s sovereign territory the previous winter. The army had beaten them back, but the current peace was tenuous at best. It was only a matter of time before the two realms, positioned on either side of the Skala Mountains, clashed again.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It happened so quickly. Maybe it was nothing…” Heraphia trailed off, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she gazed out the window behind me.

I grasped her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “If you think we should go, then we will go. What did Zuriel say?”

She sighed. “He isn’t back yet. That's why I came straight to you.”

I glanced behind me at the stack of unwashed dishes. “Okay, here’s the plan. Alert the others. I’ll finish up here. We’ll be packed and ready by the time he returns.”

Our group was scarcely more than twenty these days. Two years ago, an Elessarum stronghold had been raided, during which my parents and many others had been slain. Since then, we kept to smaller groups, hoping to remain unnoticed among the myriad of merchants coming and going throughout the realm.

Zuriel, having been born to one of the noble houses of the Angel Realm, carried a regal air that was unmistakable. Perhaps he’d been spotted in the village and someone had alerted the local hunters, which had triggered his wife’s latest vision.

Whatever the case, if she sensed it was time to move on, it was time to move on.

“Do you need me to pack your bags?” Heraphia asked, dropping my hands and stepping back.

“If you can.” I offered her a sad half-smile. “There shouldn’t be much to put away. Haven’t had much time to unpack.”

Anguish twisted her lips. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s not your fault. You are always protecting us,” I said, yanking her into a warm embrace. I rubbed my hands over her back, trying to soothe the ache of having to move on so soon. We relied on her to keep us safe, a fact that made me feel guilty more often than not. But I couldn’t bring myself to come off the herb and allow myself to fall into the horrors in my head.