“You are supposed to be dead,” Kaden snarled from behind his horned helmet. I flexed my wrist, the power flickering over my skin to coalesce in my hand. The shadow of a blade formed in my palm as dark and hateful as they’d made me. The sword solidified, purple and black tendrils of magic reaching, searching for their next victim. I pointed it at Kaden. “I am not, but you soon will be.” “Oblivion,” Isaiah whispered. “How did you get that from Mera?” My lips curled in disgust. “I did not get it. I am it. Oblivion is not something anyone can take from me.”
