Her chest suddenly jerks as she sucks in a sharp, loud breath. Then again, faster this time. Her entire body tenses as her chest rapidly rises and falls. Her eyes are still closed, but her lids flutter rapidly like she’s having a nightmare. Her breaths grow more ragged, causing panic to bloom in me like wildfire. I can see the pain in her face, see her eyes dancing beneath the lids like she’s reliving every horror she’s ever known.
I instinctively step forward again, but Aran yet again blocks me with nothing more than a stern look.
“She’s remembering.”
Those two words from Elyistria have me pausing in my stride. Remembering what? Because it looks like she’s remembering every painful thing she’s ever endured. My fists tighten at my sides. I’ve laid her on two altars in one fucking day, and both times I’ve been utterly powerless in stopping her pain.
Daisy lets out another gasp, choked and uneven. Her head twitches to the side, her lips parting in a silent cry. Tears slip from her closed eyes, trailing down her temples and disappearing into the runes.
“Please,” I whisper, the word torn from me before I can stop it. It felt like my soul was begging for her to be okay, begging for her to pull through this. Because without her, I was nothing. Not anymore. I watch as she suddenly goes still, the runes dimming and the entire chamber slamming into a silence so potent I can hear my own heartbeat.
“Daisy?” I rasp, stumbling forward.
She doesn’t move. I can’t see her breathing. I can’t see any sign of life inside of her. I search desperately with my heightened senses for any sign of life, but I come up short. Even the soul bond seems muted.
“No—no, no no…” I’m already in the circle, dropping to my knees beside her, my hands shaking as I gather her face in my palms. “Please. Not like this. Don’t go. Don’t fucking leave me. I haven’t had enough time.”
I look up desperately to Aran and Elyistria. Both of them stare at her lifeless body with an expression I can only decipher as… grief.
Chapter 49
Daisy
Everything’s black.
I can hear a distant voice. Korithax. He’s begging me to stay with him. But I am with him, I just can’t see him.
“I’m here,” I try to say. But I can’t seem to speak either.
Something’s wrong, so very wrong. Where am I? Why is it dark? Am I dead? Am I hearing his voice just before my soul leaves forever? No. No, I can’t die. But it doesn’t feel like I have a choice as I suddenly begin to feel cold. I can feel something heavy wrapping around my body. Something ancient, calling to me like it’s an old friend, beckoning me to come closer, to reach out.
I can faintly feel my body in this dark place. I feel my arm slowly reaching into the unknown—reaching for the source of whatever it is that’s calling to me. Is it death calling, welcoming me with a heavy embrace? If it is… I don’t want to go. I lower my arm, willing myself to ignore its pull.
“I won’t go with you. I’m needed back in Zeriavoss.”
A whisper surrounds me, wrapping around me like a warm, tight hug.
“Dasmyrin,” it whispers against my ear like a welcoming caress.
“No.” I whisper back. “You have the wrong person. I’m Daisy. I need to go back.”
“I know who you are, Queen of Hell. But you do not know yourself,” the ancient voice whispers back.
“Yes, I do. I’m Daisy Sandoval. Sunshine incarnate. Future Queen of Hell.” I respond in a desperate shout.
“Future. Past. Present. All at once.”
“What are you talking about? Who are you? Where am I?” I stutter the questions out one after the other, panic lacing my voice, desperation seeping through me. I need to get back. I need to go home.
“You need to see. You need to remember.”
Before I have a chance to respond, I’m violently thrust forward like two hands pushed on my back as hard as they could. I’m suddenly falling, wind ripping by me as I screw my eyes shut, screaming as I descend further and further. I throw my arms out, trying to grip onto something. But there’s nothing there, just wind rushing through my fingers as I desperately claw at the air.
“Open your eyes, Ashborn.”
I do as the whisper says and gasp as I see hundreds of images fly past me one by one. I see my entire life flitting by me, scenes of being a child, my mother, my father, my friends. Tears fill my eyes as I see image after image of my life. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Images fly past me that I don’t recognise, and I feel the sudden, overhwhelming urge to reach out and try to grab at one.
My soul seems to call to the strange places that flit by, seeing the same strange woman over and over again. I reach out, subconsciously willing the image to come to me as I try to wrap my fingers around it. I watch in awe as my hand goes straightthrough the image, then my wrist, my forearm, my entire body as it slowly sucks me inside.
