The ship groaned, the deck beneath her vibrating as the waves rumbledwith the call of the sea. It sounded wrong. Unnatural. Deep in her bones, Elena knew a sound like this could not exist, that the pit was merely a deep chasm made of earth and stone and water, not filled with wrathful creatures, but she could not ignore what she heard. Her knees buckled—and Samson caught her. In the glow of the flames, he held her close, his voice fervent, desperate.
“Do you trust me?”
No.
She did not trust a monster like him. Shecouldnot trust a monster like him. But he had grabbed her hand when he could have easily let her slip into the sea. He was the only thing standing before her and the vivid dark with his lonely, dying fire. And Elena realized there were two ways this nightmare could end: one, where they drowned in darkness; or two, where they survived, hearts in their throats, forsaken but alive.
“Samson,” she said, and if her voice trembled, she was sure it was because of her fear, not because of the way he looked at her now, full of a quiet hope she did not deserve, “I do.”
He took her hand, his touch achingly gentle, his eyes ardently bright, as his flames twined around hers and she felt a white-hot cold begin at the seat of her spine.
Then as his flames grew, as pain built through her body and Elena felt her veins burn with a heat she could not contain, he held her fixed, his voice low, lush. “Then lend your Agni to me.”
CHAPTER 44
SAMSON
Only fire can banish the shadows. Only love can unburden grief. The Great Serpent is made of both, so take care of Her dualities, and you will fare through the deep.
—from the hymns of the Great Serpent
Her Agni hit him with such force that Samson did not know whether to laugh or to scream. Heat surged through his veins, ignited his nerves, filled him with a luscious, vicious intensity. This wasn’t just power. It waslife, a puissance so ripe he could feel every sinew and cell of his body thrum in wonder. What an irony, then, that he, the Prophet who could heal burns, could only heal himself by being burned by another.
For so long, he had lived in the absence of such power and called it normal. He had almost forgotten what it felt to live wholly. But now…
He wanted it all.
Samson looked down, a grin spreading across his face, and was struck by the bright, acute fear in Elena’s eyes. It slammed him back. His ravenous desire juddered like the body of an arrow vibrating upon impact. Hishold faltered, and her Agni began to slip. He could still take it. She did not know how to close the connection and guard her spark from him. He couldseethe map of her: the beacons of her chakras, the glowing channels of her nadis. He could devour it all.
But Samson hesitated.
His own desire would destroy her. And for some reason, that knowledge and the thought of holding her cold, lifeless corpse in his arms, of feeling her stolen fire buzz through his veins as hers went dark, seized him with a terror like no other.
Elena wheezed, her grip on him slackening. She gritted her teeth and closed her fist, and he watched, a bit in horror, a bit in awe, as a flame bent to twist around his.Impossible.That she could still control her Agni even as he diverted her prana from her nadis. That she could still stand, her eyes burnished with fear and stubborn strength, as she raised a shaking finger and pointed behind him.
“Sam,” she said. “It’s… getting… closer.”
He turned and saw waves bend around the beast. If he took all of her Agni now, he could banish the monster himself. He could cut back time. Free Seshar, win back the years its freedom had cost him. But at the cost of her death?
No.
The answer struck clear in his mind, like a singular note. And as it grew, he found his resolve emboldened, strengthened.
He released her hand, retreating from her chakras, and tamped down his hunger.
“Move with me,” he said.
She grunted but raised herself to mirror his movements. He whipped his urumi and called their Agni. He felt a slight, instinctive resistance from her, but with a gentle tug, it gave way, and their Agni surged forth, blue and red flames licking down his twin blades.
In his mother’s stories, the Great Serpent was betrayed by Her sister. Hollowed by grief, She had splintered into shadows. Ravenous, wraithlike beings that had grown twisted and wrong in their anger. The pit became their home. Their prison. And the monster before him now howled with a mad, frothing fury that made him feel the weight of its grief, of its bitter sense of injustice.
He had no gems. No lives to sacrifice. But he had Agni, and Agni always found its path.
He surged to the right and Elena followed in step, their arms rising in unison as he thrust his blades and she extended her arms. Their inferno roared forward like a bolt of lightning hurled from the hands of a god. It struck the dark shape. A high, uneven keen cut through the storm, ripping his eardrums.
Samson gasped, staggering back. Pain sliced up his sword arm, and he would have dropped his weapon if not for Elena as she stepped forward, wrapping her hand around his, and raised the urumi.
“Together,” she said.
