Page 79 of She Who Holds My Wrath

Aran drops to her side immediately, steadying her shoulders. “What’s wrong? What’s happening to the line?”

“It’s… it’s weakening again,” Velentha grits out, pressing her fingertips harder against the rippling surface of the leyline. The magic spasms violently, causing her to wince. “Someone is tampering with it—somewhere between the realms. They’re trying to sever the new anchor I made.”

“The anchor you made,” I echo, stunned. “Velentha, how did you even open a line without an anchor point on this end?”

She laughs weakly. “I didn’t. Not really.” Her breath hitches as the light shivers. “I used the ancient Særathi lines. They’re buried—forgotten—but not gone. They were the first routes carved between realms. They obey different rules. Old rules. If you know how to access them…” She grimaces. “You can redirect power through them. Temporarily. But they burn through magic like wildfire, and I’m⁠—”

She breaks off with a gasp as the leyline flickers violently. I watch as the light stutters, like something alive choking on its own pulse. It surges brighter, then dims, then fractures into jagged streams that ripple across the sparkling snow. The air shifts with it, pressure building around us until it feels like it’s trying to press its way beneath my skin and get to my lungs.

“V,” Aran whispers, gripping her forearm. “You’re trembling.”

“I can’t hold this much longer,” she snaps, and the sound of raw panic in her voice makes my throat go dry. “Sariya and Elyistria are stabilising the Hell-side, but I’m alone here. The moment I let go, it’s over. You’ll all be trapped.”

Maelkar steps towards the line, shadows lashing at the ground like they’re reacting to the instability. “Then we move. Now.”

There’s no time to talk. No time to think. The leyline convulses and the sound is horrific. It’s like metal tearing apart unbearable strain, like the world itself is splitting open. The light warps and Velentha’s body lurches forwards as if the ground itself is trying to pull her in. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.

“One at a time!” Velentha shouts, voice cracking under the strain. “Go, go—NOW!”

Everything happens too fast. Lucifer moves first, grabbing Maelkar by the collar and yanking him forwards with desperate force, pulling him into a fierce kiss. Like he believes it may be the last time.

I hear Maelkar choke on a surprised laugh, his shadows exploding outwards like black fire, writhing and snapping around them in response to the surge of emotion.

“Don’t you dare vanish on me again,” Lucifer growls, then shoves him towards the glowing tear.

Maelkar disappears into the light with a whoosh of shadow, sucked into the tear with a violent pull that distorts the air around it. Lucifer immediately follows, flicking a wink at me. Aran goes next, steadying Velentha for a final moment, his expression torn before staying and going. She whispers something to him which forces him to move. He dives into the light without looking back.

Sariya’s voice echoes faintly from the other side. “Hurry!”

Elyistria calls after it, strained but calm. “Velentha cannot carry this alone. MOVE!”

I step towards the line. The lights writhing, tearing at the edges like it’s trying to collapse in on itself. The air around it hum so violently, that it feels like the pressure is trying to invade my skull. Velentha’s shaking hand reaches out, brushing mine.

“Go,” she whispers. “Please.”

I hesitate for a second. Her face is pale, lips drained of colour, her entire body trembling like she’s barely holding herself up right. The light reflects in her silver eyes, but it’s flickering there too, dimming with every passing second. It doesn’t look like she’s going to make it.

“Don’t you dare stay behind,” I say, my voice a low growling command.

She smirks weakly. “I’m too stubborn to die here. I’ll be right behind you.”

A part of me doesn’t believe her, but I nod anyway. I step into the leyline and the world disappears. Light consumes everything, too bright to look at. It tears across my skin, too hot yet too cold. I feel weightless—untethered—like I’ve been ripped out of existence entirely. Then something pulls. Not forwards. Sideways. A violent, grasping force claws at me, invisible hands dragging at my limbs, my ribs, my spine, trying to wrench me off course, to split me apart and scatter me into whatever void lies between realms.

Cold floods my veins and panic spikes. No. Absolutely not. I force my mind to focus, to try and anchor me elsewhere. I picture Hell, Zeriavoss, the heat, the fire, the sprawling fields, the pulse of it beneath my feet. I cling to it like a lifeline.

The pull fights me even harder. For a second, I feel myself slipping. I’m stretching and tearing, like I’m about to end up somewhere else entirely. Somewhere I won’t come back from. I squeeze my eyes as tightly as I can and force the image of my family into my head waiting for me. Then—I slam through.

The world snaps back into place. I stumble out the other side into a dim cavern beneath Hell, the cold violent energy replaced by something warm and steady. My knees buckle as the ground tilts beneath me, my body struggling to catch up with itself.

Sariya’s magic washes over me like a summer breeze, seeping into my skin and easing the worst of the strain. I nearly collapse into her arms, but Aran catches me instead.

“Easy,” he murmurs, his grip firm on my arms as he holds me upright.

Behind us, the leyline lets out a sound like a deafening scream. I twist just in time to see Velentha dive. She throws herself into the collapsing tear with a ragged, broken gasp. For a horrifying second, I think she’s not going to make it. The light snaps violently, collapsing inwards like it’s being crushed shut. She falls through as the tear seals behind her with a crack. A shockwave of displaced power blasts outwards, slamming into us as dust rains from the ceiling.

Velentha collapses to her knees, her entire body giving out beneath her. She’s gasping for breath, dragging it in like she’s been drowning. Aran is at her side instantly, dropping down to pull her into his chest. She leans against him, unresponsive at first—too exhausted, too drained to even process the contact.

I can’t stop staring at her. She almost didn’t make it.