She turned her head, slowly.
Beside her, Silas lay sprawled on the floor, vacant eyes staring up at the ceiling. She reached out, but as her trembling handtouched his cheek, his skin came apart, piece by piece, fragment by fragment, until the Headmaster of Blackwood Academy vanished before her eyes.
Destroyed. Gone.
Finally,finallygone.
But why hadn’t Wren met the same fate? They’d each ripped the core of the other’s soul out. She’d felt it. The moment it happened. The burning flame inside her extinguished. Yet here she was. Her flesh still intact. Her soul…no. Her soul was barely there. Fading. Hanging on by a thin, almost invisible tether.
But what was that tether? What was holding her in place? What was keeping her from drifting into oblivion? It didn’t feel like a part of her soul. Didn’t have the familiar essence she had come to recognize.
But itwasfamiliar. That anchor. It felt like firm hands holding her. Warm. Tender.
“August.”
His name slipped out of her mouth, voice rough and raw. He reached out, cupping her face gently with his hands. “What is it?”
“It’syou,” she whispered back. She was certain of it now. A piece of August’s soul. It was inside her, the tiniest sliver, but it held on with all its might, holding her steady, unwilling to let hergo.
August cocked his head in confusion.
“What is it, darling?” He brushed strands of damp hair away from her eyes. “What’s me?”
Wren laughed, but the sound was wrong and broken.
“Were you…ever going to tell me…that you put a piece of your soul inside me?”
August’s face fell. His bottom lip trembled, tears welling in hiseyes.
“I just wanted to save you.”
“And you did.” She reached out, cupping his face with her hand. “But it can’t hold on forever.”
From one breath to the next, something rushed inside Wren. A torrential downpour of memories flowed into her. The pain she had caused. The terror she had inflicted.So many innocent souls.Destroyed by her hand. Ripped apart.Arthur.She’d contorted his soul into a mindless shadow creature. And she had smiled…she had laughed.
She had enjoyed every second of it.
NO.
Wren let out an agonized wail, clutching her chest. This pain…this was worse than any physical wound. Than any injury she’d endured. This was the pain of knowing there was no fixing the damage she’d left behind. Inside her, the shadows begged to resurface, to numb the memories. She’d managed to push her consciousness back to the surface, but she was weak, and she knew that the moment she lowered her defenses, the darkness would claim her once again.
But there was still one thing she could do. One final act of defiance.
She stretched out her hands toward the pile of ashes beside her—toward what was left of Silas—but she couldn’t quite reach, a deep guttural groan emanating from the back of her throat. August looked on, brows furrowed.
“What is it? What do you need?”
“Thering,” Wren rasped, recoiling as another wave of torment shot through her body, sharpened nails ripping at her insides, tearing at her ligaments. The screams echoed in her mind endlessly. The terror. All her doing. Her fault. “It belongs to the Soulless One. You can’t let him put it on. You can’t let him unleash what he’s hidden inside it.”
You think you can stop this, my sweet catalyst? That you can change what you’ve done?
But Wren ignored the Soulless One’s taunting voice. Her fingers finally found the ring beneath the pile of ash. She slowly unfurled her palm. Nestled inside, burning with an emerald glow, was the brass ring marked with the Soulless One’s name. August didn’t hesitate, taking the ring into his own hand, securing it tightly.
“Go…” Wren muttered. “You need to find a way to destroy it.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“You have to. You need to run.” Her ribs snapped. Her spine cracked unnaturally. There was no barrier protecting her from the pain anymore. This was her punishment, and the shadows wouldn’t relent until she gave herself up once more.
