Serpent of Desire

04 -

I watch Hawke pace, his massive form casting long shadows in the dim light of my shop. Lycus and Jameson's bodies lie motionless at my feet, an eerie reminder that something is very wrong in my world. I can't look at them for long without feeling the weight of it press on my chest, squeezing my lungs, but it's not enough to crush the denial still burning inside me.

Enforcers don't die.

They can't.

But their blood pools beneath them, dark and still. It should be impossible, yet here we are, in my shop, with the bodies of two enforcers who shouldn't be able to die. The reality is settling in, digging its claws deeper with each second that ticks by, and for the first time in a long time, I feel something akin to panic.

Hawke snaps something under his breath, his jaw clenched so tightly I can practically hear his teeth grinding together. I don't need to ask what he's thinking. His blame is obvious in the way his eyes dart to me with each turn he takes, like I'm the one who did this.

"Stop pacing," I snap, my voice colder than I feel inside. "It's not helping."

He freezes mid-step, his eyes blazing as they lock onto mine. For a second, neither of us moves, the tension thick enough to choke on. I feel the coil of my anger tightening, winding itself around my throat like a noose.

"This is your fault." The words leave his mouth like bullets, sharp and aimed directly at me. "You took too much from Lycus. You weakened him, and now—"

"And now what, Hawke?" I cut him off, my voice low but laced with venom. I don't bother hiding the snarl in my tone. "You think this is on me? You think I killed Lycus? I fed from him, but that doesn't mean I sliced him to pieces or let him into the void." I take a step toward him, my hands trembling at my sides. "You're not thinking straight." I snap.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a fool." Hawke's voice rumbles, deep and dangerous. He steps forward, towering over me, his presence filling every inch of the space between us. "You did something to him. Don't act innocent."

I glare up at him, meeting his eyes with every ounce of fury I can summon. The way he looks at me, like I'm beneath him, like I'm the cause of all his problems—it ignites something in me. A dark, festering rage that I've kept buried for too long.

"You think you can intimidate me?" I laugh bitterly, stepping closer so the only thing separating us is the ragged breath we both exhale. "You think I wanted this? To have Lycus dead on my floor, with you hurling accusations like you actually matter? I didn't kill him. And if you can't handle that, maybe you should leave."

Hawke's hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist, the serpent coiled around it stirring in response. My magic flares instinctively, the coolness flooding my veins, but I pull it back, holding myself in check. Barely.

"I won't leave until I know what you did," he growls, his face inches from mine. "If you killed him—"

"I didn't kill him!" I yank my wrist free, shoving him back with all the strength I have. He stumbles, caught off guard, but recovers quickly, his eyes narrowing on me with pure hatred.

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. The look in his eyes tells me everything. He wants to tear me apart for this, for something he knows I didn't do, because he needs someone to blame. He needs an outlet for his grief, and I'm convenient.

"You're not as untouchable as you think you are, Ilaria," Hawke says, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You might be the gatekeeper, but you're not above the consequences of your actions."

"Don't talk to me about consequences, Hawke," I spit, my heart hammering in my chest. "I've faced more than you could ever understand."

"You've never faced this." He gestures to the bodies on the floor, his eyes flashing with rage. "You've never been responsible for the death of someone you're supposed to protect." He says the words but a flash of pain lingers in his eyes.

I freeze at that. My breath hitches, and the familiar, deep-seated guilt claws at my insides. He doesn't know. He doesn't know what I've done, what I'm capable of. But his words hit too close to home, and for a moment, I can't speak. The memory of another body, lifeless at my feet, burns into my mind.

Hawke's nostrils flare as he steps back, his fingers twitching near his swords as if he's considering pulling them again, as if I'm the enemy here.

I turn away from him, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing how rattled I really am. The truth is, I'm terrified. Not just because two enforcers are dead, but because I don't know how it happened. I should've felt it. I should've sensed something, but I didn't. And that scares me more than anything.

I kneel beside Lycus's body, my fingers hovering over his cold skin, searching for any sign of what could have done this. There's nothing—no magic residue, no curse, nothing that could explain how a supposedly immortal being is now lying dead at my feet.

Hawke stands over me, his breath shallow, his eyes burning into my back. I can feel his hatred like a physical weight pressing down on me, but I don't care. Not right now.

I need to figure this out. For my sake. For Lycus's sake.

Because if enforcers can die, then what's stopping me from being next?