It didn't take long for Thania to transform into a war zone.

The scene reminded Makaela of the old Fantasy movies she watched with her uncle and cousin on movie night.

She took in the sights around her as she and her two companions made their way to the palace. They moved stealthily, careful not to cross paths with any guards or soldiers in the area. While they weren't afraid of a fight, they wanted to save up their vitalae for their future confrontation with Sirus Lombardi.

Makaela could already feel her energy waning—magical and physical. But unlike her fellow magicians, rest wasn't the only way she could restore her power. All she needed was blood or flesh and she'd be good as new.

She didn't want to feed. But not because she didn't like doing it. Before, she detested the idea of taking another life in such a savage way, but now she knew it was something she just had to do. The killing part wasn't what frightened her. She feared if her inner demon got too strong, she wouldn't be able to take control back. Once it fully took the reins, almost nothing could stop it. She'd been doing a good job of keeping control, but she knew that would only last for so long.

It was better to not risk it.

"This was a beautiful city," Emile said. His stoic face was tinged with sadness. "What a shame."

Makaela agreed.

A good chunk of the city's buildings had been destroyed by the trio of dragons Asahi and House Doragon brought with them. Their talons would scrape across rooftops, sending broken tiles down to the ground like sharpened knives. Fire elementals were marching through the streets and setting fire to anything in sight.

That hadn't been the plan, but House Doragon were known to get carried away during battles. They were true arsonists and pyromaniacs.

"They'll rebuild after my father finishes his quest," Amora said flippantly.

On the next block over, a dark green dragon careened through the sky before shooting a strong stream of fire down onto a frightened battalion of Aegeon magicians. In return, they threw their vayrirs and shot bolts of magic at the flying beast. They managed to pierce its tough hide and tear massive holes through its wings. Pain-filled roars rippled through the city blocks as the dragon nosedived into a clocktower.

The building collapsed onto the beast and onto surrounding structures. The collision shook the ground harder than any earthquake.

Makaela grimaced at the sight. There were only two dragons left in the battle.

She wondered how long their hold on the city would last if they lost another. Since penetrating the shield charm that had been surrounding House Aegeon's portal, the Order of the Black Lotus had secured the southern portions of Thania. They were pushing into the north, but from the sounds of it, the Aegeon soldiers were putting up a fight.

However, the soldiers were being forced backward. Their numbers were waning, and the Shades were growing stronger. The tide was turning in their favor. Soon, the soldiers would fall to the Order.

Despite the prospect of victory, Makaela couldn't help but feel sorry for the deaths of those in the city—especially those who weren't fighting. The mission was to take Sirus' gauntlet, not kill their fellow magicians.

But Thorian didn't care about the casualties—not at the moment, at least. To him, those who fell in the crossfire were necessary sacrifices to a greater cause. That's what he would tell her. And she would believe it wholeheartedly.

She sighed. The soles of her feet were beginning to throb. "How much farther?"

"Suck it up," Amora told her, rolling her eyes.

Makaela glared at the girl.

Emile pointed ahead of them. "I believe our destination lies beyond that hill."

Makaela's eyes followed his finger. At the end of the road they were on stood a hill. A white, multi-tiered mansion enclosed in sturdy walls and intimidating defenses surrounded it. Stone terraces protruded from various floors. As the wall curved, she noticed the back end of the palace sat atop a cliff overlooking the sea.

She let out a breath of relief.

In the distance, she heard something burning. Smoke was rising into the hazy sky. She picked up on the scent of blood and ash. Her eyes lit up. Gritting her teeth, she strained to keep her Nightling at bay.

The demon encouraged her to abandon the mission and find some poor soul to feast on. As enticing as that sounded, she couldn't give in to the temptation. She had a job to do and she intended to finish it.

"What's the plan for when we get to the palace?" she asked, trying to distract her mind.

"We'll rush them head-on," Amora said. "They won't be able to handle us."

Emile dismissed her idea with a wave of his head. "You are too quick to jump into a fight. We'll surely be outnumbered if we go with your plan. Rushing in is the last thing we should do."

Amora threw her hands towards Makaela as if she was unveiling a new car. "Um, hello? We've got a Nightling right here. She could take out the guards inside on her own if she had to."

"Half Nightling," she grumbled.

"That makes you even more dangerous. You have magician and demon blood inside you."

She wasn't sure what to make of the girl's compliments. On one hand, it felt nice to be thought of as a powerful being. But on the other, she didn't like being referred to as a weapon. She was more than a halfling, murder-machine.

Right?

She pondered Amora's words. Could she take out a squadron of Aegeon soldiers by herself? She had killed three earlier without a problem. Her mind traveled back to Gibraltar where she slew a sea serpent with her bare hands. If she could do that, surely she could take care of some lowly water elementals.

"Fine," Emile said to Amora. "We'll do it your way." He retrieved his ram's mask from the folds of his robes and put it on. Makaela and Amora did the same.

Even though Makaela couldn't see the other girl's face anymore, she could tell she was grinning like a devil.

"Let's do this, shall we?"

A body laid in between Makaela and the palace gates. The person was very much dead. Their blond hair was matted to their head with blood and their blue clothes were ripped to shreds. Whoever it was put up a fight, though, as a dead Shade had fallen not too far away.

The trees lining the stone path were on fire. Most had already cracked and fallen to the ground. Others had been fully reduced to ash. Soot floated in the air, blocking out the sky.

Makaela kept her eyes away from the dead magician's body, careful not to tempt herself. She tried her best not to inhale the scent of blood. It was a feat easier said than done, though.

She followed behind Amora and Emile, who were pushing through the already opened palace gates. Guards stood between them and the entrance to the mansion. Their weapons were already at the ready, their faces stern and covered with ash and sweat.

Amora and Emile both summoned their vayrirs and shield charms.

Makaela did nothing. She had no control over her vayrir. She didn't even know what it was. No matter how hard she tried, she could never summon it.

But it didn't matter now. She had a different kind of weapon.

She loosened the reigns on her demon and let herself shift. The fangs came first, followed by the claws. Her muscles rippled underneath her skin. She felt the hairs on her neck and arms stand at attention. A malicious glint crossed over her eyes.

The transformation happened quicker this time. It was almost seamless.

The soldiers faltered when they stared into her blackhole-like eyes. A few of them whimpered like injured dogs. Others tried their best to mask their horror, but they were failing. Badly.

Makaela grinned, feeding off of their fear. Soon, she'd be feeding on them.

She charged into battle before her Emile and Amora could. Leaping through the air, she pounced onto a frightened shoulder and hacked away at their silver breastplate. Her sharpened nails ripped through the metal like tissue paper. He screamed. The sound was music to her ears.

Her fangs sunk into his neck and she guzzled down the delicious liquid coming from his arteries. A spell hit her midsection, but it only served as a minor annoyance. Shifting her attention to her assailant, she surged toward him and grazed his throat with her nails. He fell to the ground, hands clamped around his bleeding throat.

Amora rushed at one of the other soldiers. After shooting off a knockback spell, she followed up with a knee to their chest and a dagger in their sternum.

Emile twirled his black sword around and battled two other soldiers. He moved gracefully, each step and strike calculated. It didn't take long for him to dispatch the magicians.

Within minutes, only one Aegeon magician was left standing.

He stood at the top of the stairs leading into the palace, his legs quivering. Makaela could see him shaking in his armor. She peered at his face. He looked the same age as Remy, who was only sixteen.

Her expression softened and she felt the dark energy in her veins fleeting.

He was just a kid. He didn't want to fight. She could see the aura of fear encasing his body.

But the demon inside her didn't care. All it wanted was to feed, and the boy was the perfect meal. She fought for dominance, but she quickly lost that battle. Her sadistic smile returned and stalked forward.

The boy stumbled backward and pointed his weapon at her. The blade shook in his loose grip. Tears brimmed in his blue eyes.

"P-Please don't do this," he whimpered.

She said nothing.

Amora and Emile watched on, their silver masks expressionless.

"Please," the soldier said again, his voice now barely above a whisper.

Pathetic, Makaela—or, rather, her inner Nightling—thought.

Claws slashed across his throat, painting the ground with his blood as if it were a canvas. She mounted his body and let her fangs go to work. Once she had her fill, she rose to her feet and wiped the blood from her mouth.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she savored the taste. The fear that had been coursing through him seemed to enhance the flavor. She craved it. She needed more.

A hand dropped onto her shoulder and she nearly ripped it off.

"Take control back," Emile told her.

After a few seconds, she felt the demon's hold slipping away. Makaela wrestled for dominance until the Nightling inside relented. It slunk back into its corner of darkness, content. For now.

She hung her head, ashamed of what she had just done to that poor boy.

He didn't deserve to die. None of the citizens of Thania did. But their leader had chosen the wrong side and now they were paying for it.

"Told you rushing in with her would work," Amora said as she walked up to the red-painted, marble stairs.

Makaela hung her head, haunted by the images of the soldier she just murdered.

"Come, Makaela," Emile said. He held out a hand towards her.

Taking a deep breath, she took it. His calm voice soothed her frazzled nerves. Nodding, she followed him up the stairs and into the palace.