✨ Half my soul ✨ Kaz✖️OC.

We watch as our young hearts fade

ELEVEN BELLS

Wylan triggered Black Protocol.

They raced down the stairs. As they were about to burst from the gatehouse archway, six guards came running into the courtyard. Jesper stopped short and held out his arm.

The guards weren't moving towards the gatehouse; all their attention was focused on a man in olive drab clothing standing by one of the stone slabs.

A woman walked through the wall, a figure of shimmering mist that solidified beside the stranger. She wore the same olive drab.

"Tidemakers," Wylan said. "The Shu."

The guards opened fire, and the Tidemakers vanished, then reappeared behind the soldiers and lifted their arms.

The guards screamed and dropped their weapons. A red haze formed around them. The haze grew denser as the guards shrieked, their flesh seeming to shrink against their bones.

Wylan shrieked. "All Saints, the Tidemakers are draining their blood."

They were being squeezed dry.

"Back up the stairs," whispered Jesper. "We need to get out of here."

But it was too late. In the next breath, the female Tidemaker was on the stairs and planted her boots against Wylan's chest, kicking him backwards into Jesper. They tumbled onto the stone of the courtyard.

The rifle was jerked from Jesper's arms and tossed aside. He tried to stand, and the Tidemaker cuffed him on the back of his head. Then he was lying next to Wylan as the Tidemakers towered above them. They lifted their hands, and Jesper saw the faintest red haze appear over him.

He was going to be drained. He felt his strength start to ebb. He looked to the left but the rifle was too far away.

"Jesper," Wylan gasped. "Metal. Fabrikate." And then he started to scream.

In a flash, Jesper understood. This was a fight he couldn't win with a gun. There was no time to think, no time to doubt.

He ignored the pain tearing over his skin and focused all his attention on the bits of metal clinging to his clothes. He wasn't a good Fabrikator, but they didn't expect him to be a Fabrikator at all. He thrust his hands forward, and the bits of metal flew from his uniform.

The female Tidemaker screamed as the metal burrowed into her flesh, and she tried to turn to mist. The other Tidemaker did the same, features liquefying, but then solidifying once more. Jesper didn't relent. He drove the metal into their organs, questing deeper. He could feel them attempting to manipulate the particles of metal, but the flecks and shavings of steel were too many and too small. The woman clutched her stomach and fell to her knees. The man screamed, coughing up clotted black specks of metal and blood.

Were they dying? Had he just killed two of his kind? Jesper had only wanted to survive.

Wylan tugged at his arm. His face looked slightly transparent, the veins too close to the surface. "Jesper, we have to go."

Jesper made himself follow Wylan, scale the rope to the roof. He felt woozy and lightheaded. The others were depending on him, he knew that. He had to keep going. But he felt as if he'd left some part of himself in the courtyard below, something he hadn't even known mattered, intangible as mist.