Page 148 of A Courage of the Chosen

What’s happening to me?

My arms begin to shake, and I curl into a ball on my side as wave after wave of torment binds me tighter. One minute I’m coated in the fires of hell, and the next I’m colder than the abyss, my body wildly swinging between the two.

My mouth drops open but no sound leaves, even breathing hurts.

My magic bundles closer, frantically whipping out at the unseen enemy while it shields me.

The first splinter is an audible crack, like a snapped bone, only much more vital to the essence of who I am.

It came from my soul.

It’s with alarming clarity that I piece together what’s happening.

I’ve denied him at every turn. Every time Tavish has asked me to choose him, this is what he’s wanted, my soul fused with his. And since I won’t give it to him willingly, he’s finally decided to take it anyway.

But no. Anamara, the soul bond, has to be chosen. How is this happening when I don’t choose it?

My nails gouge into the cold stone floor as tears cascade down my face, they snap and break, and the nail beds start to bleed under the pressure of my grip.

CRACK.

A second fissure that’s as loud as a thunderclap.

“Help,” I plead to anyone and everyone. Through every connection that exists within me.

“I warned you,” Tavish grunts, confirming my suspicion. He sounds as though it’s agony for him, too. The thread between us thickens, and he pulls me closer to him.

“Tavish, please.”

This is beyond anything he’s ever done to me. My soul is being shredded apart, only for him to cherry pick which pieces he wants, and I’m powerless to stop him.

My consciousness and my sanity use everything I have to resist being dragged along the length of the bridge to him, specks of my soul fluttering around the emptiness beyond it. No mist, no light, even no shadows can fend off what he’s forcing me to endure.

I hear Tavish’s harsh chant as his mind becomes clear, like wiping fog off glass. Somewhere inside me recognizes that it won’t be long now. A few more moments and he’ll have everything he’s ever wanted.

My body becomes an empty, motionless shell, lying on the ground. One by one, each facet of who I am is yanked from me and tugged in Tavish’s direction.

“No,” I whimper aloud and internally. “Please.”

The doors crash open.

A hazy figure sprints toward me and skids to a stop by my side.

His scent hits me first, and then his muttered curse.

“Elsie!” Callahan calls. “Lower your magic.”

I can’t, I want to tell him. My mouth doesn’t work.

My heart thumps, my lungs drag in air, but I have no control. Nothing obeys the commands I scream out in my mind. The next flood of suffering sends me sprawling onto my back.

“GET LORNA!” Callahan roars. At least I think he does. He’s underwater and a million miles away.

My eyes blink, and for a brief flash, the ceiling comes into view.

Nestled between the wooden beams, a small spark of cobalt hovers and I latch onto it, anything to get me out of this hell.

“Help . . . me . . .” I stammer in the direction of the magic I’m not sure is even really there.