Page 115 of Cursebreaker

The sea is no longer parted. The ocean has come crashing down over us, surrounding the structure on all sides, and whatever enchantment Hildegarde cast on this place seems to fade as water leaks in, filling the folly, blue light pulsing all around us.

I prop Owen against the statue before the water can cover his head.

“I think—” Owen’s jaw tightens, his voice strained, but his eyes are clear. Kind. “I think I’m ready to go home now.”

“We will,” I tell him. “We’ll go together.”

His breath rattles with a hoarse chuckle, blood dribbling past his lips as his hand finds mine. “In this life… and the next… r-remember?”

He grins, carefree, laughter dancing in his eyes even as they fixate on the roof of the structure—on the constellations carved into the stone ceiling.

His hand goes limp. The water pours in faster, up to his chest now, covering the wound. His blood mixes with the water, a bloom of crimson.

I scream, cradling him in my arms as the statue begins to glow with golden light and the stone crumbles away, revealing a gilded sword.

His blood, I realize, my heart pounding. He might not possess the power of the Lightbringer, but he’s still the rightful heir of Hildegarde. His blood—Hildegarde’s blood—revealed the Sword.

“The Sword, Owen!” I shake him. “It’s the Sword! We—we found it! Come on,” I say, dragging his body up with me as I stand, holding him with strength I didn’t know I possessed as his head lolls onto my shoulder. “We have to go. Let’s go home, please? Let’s—” I groan, my teeth clenched, as I pry the sword from the statue’s grasp. “Let’s go home now. Together, Owen. We have to go together!”

The water fills the folly, up to my neck now. I’ll have to swim out. I know that I can—I’ve done it before. But I’ll have to carry the weight of the Sword.

Of Owen.

I know he’s gone. But I can’t leave him here. I have to take his body back with me. I can’t let go of him. Not yet.

I take a deep breath as the water covers my head.

I kick, the sword in one hand, my other arm wrapped around Owen’s waist, and try to draw on my power, but the Manan I exhausted attempting to heal Owen leaves me weak. I manage to produce a current that carries me out of the structure, but as I struggle toward the surface, I feel my magic failing, feel the weight of the depths dragging me under.

I kick harder, but it’s no use.

I’m sinking.

There was a time when I might have given up—might have surrendered to the blissful embrace of the sea. But my family is waiting for me, where the light breaks through the waves. Titus is waiting for me.

They need me.

Remember, you have to live.

I have to live. Owen would want me to live.

Owen’s body slips from my grasp, and it feels as if my heart is ripped from my chest.

I battle against the current, my fist tightening around the hilt of the Sword. I’m close enough to the surface that I can see the mouth of the cave, but black spots edge my vision, and it seems no matter how hard I kick, the light dims with every passing second.

And then I’m being lifted, propelled toward the light, and Lewis drags me onto the rocky bank of the cavern.

My first gasp for air is a sob that splits my head in two.

“Owen?” Lewis’s voice warbles in my ears. He looks out at the water, as if he expected our brother to emerge any moment. “Where’s Owen?”

“I couldn’t—couldn’t carry his body back,” I cry. “I couldn’t—”

Lewis wades out into the water a few steps, and for a moment, I think he might dive below the waves, but a howl bursts from his chest as he collapses onto the bank beside me, slamming his fists against the stone.

I crawl toward Titus, slumped against the cave wall, where Eliza examines his dark, festering wound. She covers her mouth to stifle a sob before shifting toward Lewis, whispering in his ear as he throws his arms around her neck, shoulders heaving as he weeps.

Titus moves as if there were no force in this realm or the next that could keep him from me. He crushes me in his embrace, but even as he holds me, I don’t let go of the Sword.