Page 407 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

Light and shadow, grief and hunger all woven together.

“Then don’t take him!” I screamed, voice raw with every hatred I’d ever buried—my mother, my sisters, all the people I’d failed. “Please!”

The hand on my shoulder patted me. Almost…gently. A mockery of comfort.

Beneath my palms, Aren’s breath came shallower. I’d seen it before. Too many times to pretend. The dying breath. The slowing heart. The end.

My hands shook. Sobs ripped through my body as my magic finished its work. His wounds were long-since closed. A slender violet scar now shimmered faintly across his throat.

Perfect.

He looked perfect. His lips, slightly parted, were stained with blood. His lashes dark against his cheeks. If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend⁠—

Pretend he would shift closer if I lay beside him. That his hand would reach for me, the way it always had in the dark.

“Please,” I whispered. “I love him.”

And I knew it was true. Gods help me, I knew. Despite everything, despite all the walls I’d built, all the ways I’d tried to resist—I had fallen. Hopelessly, irrevocably. I loved Commander Aren Amadeus of Grayshell.

And he had loved me for months. I felt it in every piece of the Bond anchoring us together. Felt it in the splintering agony that now ripped through me.

If Death took him, I would never forgive myself. Because the last thing he knew of me was pain. Fear. Abandonment.

Still, that bony hand rested on my shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, please,” I whispered. If anyone had ever deserved that name’s mercy—it was Aren.

Death squeezed my arm once, an apology carved in bone and silence.

And then…he let go.

“No!”

The word shattered from my throat as the world turned cold.

And Aren’s chest lifted one final time.

One last, shuddering breath⁠—

And then his heart stopped.

SEVENTY-FOUR

DEATH, GIVEN FORM

ALVARA

Magnolia’s hands glowed with perfect, mesmerizing white as they trembled over Aren. But within the wound, venom and filth rose like a tide—and slowly, his muscle and flesh began to stitch back together.

I had no time.

The visions had shown me as much. If I didn’t leave now, this battle would take every person I loved—and then it would take me. August.

“Archangel Michael, protect Aren. Protect Magnolia,” I whispered under my breath as I raised my swords above my head. The shield rippled, almost in response. As if the saints were watching. Helping. Lending me power I didn’t have.

Look at me. Pay attention to me. I am your threat. I am your undoing. I am your damnation.

With each thought, I clapped my blades together in a deafening crash. Power screamed from them. Each crack of steel echoed like thunder.