“Eager to please your daddy, aren’t you?” I spit.
That does it.
Her eyes flare. Rage blooms across her face. “You don’t know anything about my father,” she growls.
“I know he’s a pathetic, bitter little god,” I snarl. “Still crying over some battle he lost over two thousand years ago. And the only reason he had you was because he wanted an obedient idiot to carry his wishes without protest.” I’m jumping to a lot of conclusions here and making some wild assumptions based on the few pieces of information I’ve got, but I clearly hit my mark.
She screams — rage and magic building in her throat — and a huge piece of debris explodes near me, shrapnel whistling past my face. I flinch, biting down a scream.
That’s when Sinalyn strikes.
She lunges and grips her mother’s wrist — the one holding the leash.
Black spreads instantly across the witch’s skin, devouring her flesh like rot. She howls, thrashing, but Sinalyn doesn’t let go. She starts dragging her back, away from Draven.
The leash slips from her fingers.
“I can’t hold her for long — do it now!” Sinalyn shouts, her voice straining as she wrestles with her mother.
There’s no time to hesitate. No space for fear.
“We’re using claws, Neris,”I whisper. My voice is broken. Like cracked glass.
She doesn’t answer — just whimpers and gives them to me. Her claws slide through the tip of my fingers, and I leap. Straight into Draven’s chest, arms locked around his shoulders, legs around his waist, holding on like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t sway even a little.
But the second my skin touches his, the world explodes.
Sparks tear through me. His scent wraps around me like a comfort blanket — sun and fire and love. Tears prick instantly at the corners of my eyes. Everything falls silent. The chaos, the fire, the screams. All gone.
It’s just us now.
“I love you,” I breathe against his ear, voice shaking as my tears spill down his shoulder. “Even if I fail… I won’t be far behind.”
My lips press to the spot where his neck meets his shoulder — the place where his mark should’ve always been.
One arm tightens around him. The other raises, claws out, poised over his chest, fangs descending.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and then I strike.
My fangs sink into his flesh at the same moment my claws rip through his chest. Right over his heart.
His blood hits my tongue. Not metallic. Not bitter. Sweet. Like wild berries soaked in honey. And gods, the bond hits like lightning.
I feel it open between us — a tunnel, a flare, a scream of light — linking mind to mind, soul to soul. His heart beneath my claws. His blood in my mouth. Everything burns. Magic fights back, dark and violent, but it fails. It dies.
The leash snaps. I feel it unravel.
Marking sigils light up across his skin for a heartbeat, bright and furious.
And then… the light flickers. And fades.The bond dips. And it dies.
I think I hear the witch screaming right when Draven’s legs give out and he falls to the ground, taking me with him. My soul is being ripped apart piece by piece, while his soul is already gone.
“No,” I sob into his skin, keeping my fangs locked in, refusing to let go even as the pain rips through me like a scythe. I tear my claws from his chest, wrap both arms tight around his neck, and hold.
And hold. And hold.
