The words wrapped around me like a noose.
“You could have saved her.”
A clawed hand plunged into my chest, gripping my heart. My vision blurred, black spots spreading across my gaze. The Nyxwraith was pulling something from me—my very soul.
It’s not real. But the pain was. The terror was real.
I squeezed my eyes shut. What if I stopped fighting? What if I let them take me, so Esme could live?
The whispers shuddered, faltering.
That was it. They didn’t fear love—they feared self-sacrifice.
“I will give my life to save Esme,” I screamed in a shaking voice. “I will save Rykr, Ciaran, Amahle, Tara—everyone I love—even if it kills me.”
The Nyxwraiths screamed.
Then, the entire space shattered.
The illusions burned away, leaving only a long, empty corridor.
I was alone.
A sob wrenched free from my chest, shaking uncontrollably from the horror of what I’d just experienced.
Was Rykr going through this? Gods, this is terrifying.
I wiped my face. If they’d brought him here, maybe I could find him. Help him.
I struggled onto my feet once again, feeling drained of life.
The sound of footsteps drew closer and Ciaran stood before me, his face wary, hard, untrusting.
Shit. It wasn’t over after all.
“You’re fake,” he said, his eyes narrowing at me.
Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I wiped them away, waiting for him to taunt me with my failures. If I answered, the Nyxwraiths would only grow stronger.
“Seren is dead,” he shouted. “Leave me alone!”
I lifted my head sharply, my eyes widening. He felt real. So real. Not like the other illusions I’d encountered here. Esme had looked different.
And Rykr would never condemn me the way the Nyxwraiths had.
But Ciaran …
Was it possible?
Could he be real? Or would the Nyxwraiths only grow more convincing the more I believed in them?
“Do you remember the harpies, Ciaran?”
His brow drew together in grief. “No.” He wiped his eyes. “No, you don’t get to talk to me about her like this. I loved her. I loved her! And she loved him instead. She picked him, instead of me.”
Gods.
I swallowed hard.
