I have her. But for how long?
12
THE RACE AGAINST TIME
LUCIEN
Ilift her from the bed, holding her limp against my chest. Her head lolls against my shoulder, silver-grey eyes half-open but unseeing.
Too pale. Too still.
Her magic should settle after the purge, even if it was incomplete. Especially now the Shackle-Soul is weakened.
Instead, it churns, violent, electric and unstable beneath her skin.
“Come back to me,” I whisper, brushing my mouth to her temple. “Come back, Elara.”
Her pulse flutters once but it’s still too weak.
And that’s when I feel it.
A tremor in the wards. It’s soft at first, a hummingbird wing’s flutter, the subtlest shift in the wind.
Then a second. Sharper…the sound of something ancient snapping. A shockwave slams into the house.
Windows rattle.
Mirrors crack.
Curtains rip and the chandeliers sway violently overhead.
Elara whimpers in my arms, then she begins to convulse, the darkest storm gathering inside her.
The coven has felt the weakening.
They know she’s almost free.
They knowIfreed her.
And now they are coming. Loud and fast and furious.
They are tearing through the veil with every ounce of their power. I clutch Elara tighter, baring my teeth. “My love,” I whisper, “wake up. Another battle comes and we are out of time.”
But her eyes remain closed.
Another crack rips through the wards, louder still, closer, like thunder inside the bones of the house.
The storm has begun.
And dawn is still an hour away.
Consciousness slams back into me,yanking from the bottom of a black ocean.
I gasp, choking on air, my eyes flying open as my body arches in pain and shock. My heart hammers, the last shreds of the ritual still crackling through my veins like lightning.
Lucien is above me in an instant. His hands clamp my shoulders, his voice a torn snarl, “Elara. Open your eyes.”
The raw, shredded desperation in it drags me fully back into my body.
