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Mutely, Raven and Professor O’Connor moved forward, conjuring gleaming enchanted cuffs to shackle Zahara’s slender wrists. All fight had fled from her. She no longer had fangs to bare.
The Headmistress’ sharp glance pierced the subdued witch with cold satisfaction. “Prepare yourself, Zahara. The dungeons of Morrigan’s Peak await.”
At her pronouncement, the color leached entirely from Zahara’s face. She shuddered violently but did not resist as they led her away, gravel and dust gritting softly beneath shuffling steps fading gradually into echoing silence.
At last, It was over.
CHAPTER33
Sera
A distant bell tolled midnight,the ominous sound seeming to resonate through my very bones. It was the destined hour at last, but no freedom or salvation greeted us. Dread coiled ever tighter in my gut as I turned towards Rhys. We’d won the battle, and still, the curse’s voracious appetite remained unappeased.
My beloved’s proud face was etched with quiet resolve, but I glimpsed stark fear lacing his eyes as we watched the stony pallor inch upward from his granite fingertips towards his wrist, devouring his living flesh inch by inch.
“No!” I cried out in renewed anguish. “I thought the curse would end with Zahara’s defeat!” Tears blurred my vision, turning Rhys into a wavering shadow rapidly being subsumed by merciless stone. After coming so far, had we merely rushed headlong to heartbreak?
But before despair’s icy teeth could wholly sever the lifeline of our last frail hopes, the Headmistress intervened, her stern voice anchoring me back from the brink.
“Quickly now! The sacred ceremony must commence at once!” She swept towards us, gesturing sharply for the others to gather around. “I can stall the curse’s progression, but our window dwindles swiftly.”
Rhys sank to his knees amidst the settling rubble, noble features creased with pain and grim resignation. But I could not accept defeat—not when our salvation teetered so agonizingly near at hand.
Kneeling before my fading love, I clutched his transforming hands in mine desperately. “Just hold on!” I pleaded. “We will undo this wicked sorcery, I swear it!”
Rhys lifted his shifting gaze to mine, obsidian stone overtaking the vibrant maroon of his eyes. “Do not despair for me, beloved.” Each word sounded strained with effort. “My only regret will be leaving you alone...”
A broken sob caught in my throat. I cradled his beloved face between my palms, heedless of the ruthless creep of icy stone. “Never alone,” I vowed fervently. “You are my heart, in this life and all the next.” I silenced his weak protests with a searing kiss, pouring all my devotion into it as though my love alone could turn back the insidious tide.
Our lips met with desperate urgency, a lifeline between Rhys’ fading spirit and my own frantically grasping one. I tried to pour my very soul into the kiss, willing him to endure just a moment longer. Tears flowed unchecked as we clung together, our clasped hands the only anchor against oblivion’s pull.
“Don’t leave me!” I wept against his ravaged cheek. “Stay with me, Rhys!” But only unrelenting stone met my fervent pleas.
At last, I relinquished his lips, blinking back scalding tears. Beside us, the Headmistress drew Professor O’Connor’s silk scarf from his throat, the gleaming material spilling over her hands like liquid starlight.
“Now quickly, join hands,” she commanded us briskly. Mystical resonance hummed in her words. Rhys obeyed weakly, though his stony grip chilled my fingers with unnatural cold. I clung to him fiercely, a lifeline against the rising terror. We had to restore his stolen future, or else gladly share oblivion’s bitter embrace.
The Headmistress began wrapping our united hands with O’Connor’s shimmering scarf, blinding radiance blossoming from each pass. The light seemed to sink through our skin, forging some profound link I sensed but could not yet grasp.
Jasper murmured in awe, “Can you... can you truly marry them?”
Raven answered solemnly, “Such powers have ever rested with the headmasters of Blackthorn. Fate shall not be easily denied this day.”
I scarcely heard their exchange, senses filled only with Rhys—the granite plates overtaking his noble profile, the steady cadence of his heartbeat against my palm, the indomitable spirit shining in his eyes though all else faded. He was still here... still fighting. That alone kindled an incentive for one final stand against the encroaching darkness.
The Headmistress continued wrapping our bound hands, the makeshift cord now blazing like a fallen star glimpsed through my awed tears. “Through knot of hand and twist of fate, two souls now merge, two lives entwine...” she intoned sonorously.
Her words seemed to resonate at some profound frequency beyond hearing, dismantling stones lamina by endless lamina until only our exposed spirits remained. I saw Rhys truly then, past skin or stone—the essence of the man who had saved me in countless unseen ways. And loved me into wholeness.
“Thus bound beyond death or dark, in life and all yet to come, you are made one eternal,” the Headmistress pronounced. With infinite care, she joined our hands fully, completing some circuit that released an eye-searing flare of light and power beyond anything I could have braced for. It was the burning heart of the universe itself, searing through my fragile mortal shell in a brilliant wave. I cried out, senses overwhelmed by the cosmos thundering through my earthly veins.
At my side, I heard Rhys echo my overwhelmed shout, our twin souls alight with holy fire. When the impossible flare finally dimmed just shy of oblivion, he was gazing at me again—those beloved maroon eyes once more vivid in his living flesh. Disbelieving awe broke across his face like the first golden rays at solstice dawn.
The cursed stone was banished, his spirit and form restored to flawless grace before me. Disbelieving joy surged wildly inside me—he was free, whole, and he was mine, just as I belonged solely and eternally to him now by sacred rites.
Overwhelmed, I threw my arm about my husband, his marriage cord still binding our hands in radiant promise. “Praise the goddess!” I wept into his broad shoulder. “The curse is lifted!”
We both rose from the ground where we were kneeling, overcome with emotion. Rhys’ muscular arms enfolded me fiercely. He then grasped my waist and spun us both in an exultant circle, his deep laughter mixing with my tearful cries. Around us, the others broke into ecstatic cheers, rushing forward to offer exuberant congratulations and embraces. But for a blissful eternity, nothing existed for me save Rhys’ beloved face etched with joy and wonder. Our faithful friends would forgive the lapse, I reasoned giddily to myself. After all, how often was an ancient curse thwarted by the triumph of true love?
