Page 78
A cataclysmic shudder echoed in the recesses of his mind. The smell of burnt roses filled his nostrils. Shadows and shackles engulfed him.
Sweet, merciful Sisters.
“It was me,” he rasped.
Every shattered home. Every ashen crop and fallen tree. Every too-still body that lay in the smoldering grass.
“I did this.”
He was the only one capable of such a thing. No other Demon had the power to control the rock and earth outside the Montrealm. He’d thought it a benefit of his Blessing, but this, the sight before him, was a curse.
Lunara filled his vision and knelt. How dare she sweep in with that gentle look in her eyes and replace the view of his most absolute disgrace? He didn’t deserve such beauty.
“You didn’t have a choice.”
“How do you know that?” he snapped, incapable of grasping anything other than his undeniable guilt.
She didn’t flinch. “Because I know you, Brand, whether you believe it or not. In your right mind and in control of your own body, you would have died before endangering so many. I saw what she did to you. Heard the last beats of your heart and wrenched you back from the Veil myself.” He hissed through clenched teeth as her hand landed on his knee, but she didn’t pull away. “I swear to you—however this happened, it wasn’t something you willingly chose.”
Lyriat’s words echoed within him. “Trust no one but those gathered here.”
He was locked on her, clinging to the sincerity in her voice. He wanted to believe her, if for no other reason than to use it as a way to excuse his actions. To have a way to fucking live with himself until he gathered the courage to face it and make amends. Until he remembered.
At the thought, a slice of black cut across his vision and left dancing spots behind. Pain lanced through the base of his skull, his torso, tearing him apart. A furious rumble in the depths. His breaths shallowing. The darkness encroaching.
When her fingers twitched, all of his focus went to the touch—to the one spot on his body that wasn’t throbbing.
That was enough for him.
“Help me,” he bit out, though each word was its own battle. “It’s…happening again.”
The ground shook, more of those horrific, twisted shrieks coming closer. Another dreadbeast, and he was sitting there fucking useless again.
A smile started to curl the corners of his lips as if he was pleased over such a thing, and he wanted to rail against it. “Please.” This wasn’t right. Wasn’t him.
“Witchling…”
Lunara snarled at Mag’s warning, her eyes flashing silver as she bared her razor-sharp fangs. “Handle it.”
Prismatic light flared between them and—
“Fucking fuck!”
He’d never been conscious for this part before. Aware enough to really feel the slam of her power as it barreled into him. Stars above it bloody burned. Seared through every vein and flooded his particles near to bursting.
Vision narrowing… Darkness rising…
No. No. He couldn’t succumb when the others were in danger. But he was breaking apart. Shattering into pieces.
Surrender to it. Fight it. Ignore her. Keep sight of her. Slaughter her. Trust in her. Hate her. Love her.
Brand roared in Lunara’s face, his sword at her throat without him willing the attack.
Though his body trembled against it, he was losing control, and the edge of the blade sank into her. She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Crimson beaded on the shining steel, the droplets parting ways to coat the blade and stain her opalescent skin.
No! He didn’t want this. Didn’t want another death on his hands.
“What are you doing?” he growled. “Get away from me, you stubborn fool!”
