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“No, you didn't know. Even though you said you remembered them all. That's the thing that infuriates me about you, Tristan. Over the years you've learned to pay more attention. You keep mementos and tell yourself that you remember and that's how you honor them. But even now, you only remember a few, and only when you stare at your collection like a serial killer with his trophies. You're a monster. I knew it then, and I know it even better now.” Fabian turned away, moving toward the console with deliberate steps. “While I held Ismah, I vowed I would destroy Heartbreak or contain it, and I would watch you suffer as I did. It's why I let you go that day. Even though I hated you. I needed you to live until I could find a way to keep my vows.”

“I'm sorry I can't remember the millions of people Heartbreak has targeted.” Tristan glared at Fabian. “No one could. Stylos was a raw wound, bleeding uncontrollably. I remember all of them as a whole, not as individuals. But I will never forget them, and now, I will carry your sisters name with me forever.”

Fabian looked back at Tristan, and his expression was terrible in its clarity. Nothing Tristan could say would change his mind. “Destiny is the perfect vessel. Not just because she can hold Heartbreak with the love it needs. But because you'll know she's suffering. You'll know she's trapped. Every moment of her pain will be a mirror of what I felt holding Ismah while she died. And then, at last, you will die, and I will find peace.”

“Fabian, please, she's innocent. Don't—” Tristan's voice cracked, the pride and ancient reserve stripping away until only desperate terror remained.

“I will not let you wield Heartbreak any longer,” Fabian said softly, turning back to the console. “Nor will I let you walk away unscathed.”

Fabian flipped a switch. The silver piece bearing Heartbreak's true name flared with blinding violet light, and the machine began to rumble.

Chapter Thirty-One

The hum in the concrete floor climbed from a low vibration into a shriek. Transformers along the perimeter groaned under the draw, spitting yellow sparks.

Osric's long fingers moved across the toggles and dials, eyes fixed on the meters while the silver piece burned with violet light in its housing. Beside Tristan, Fabian raised his hands and chanted.

The current struck Tristan.

His body arched off the steel table as his face contorted. He didn't just groan; he screamed—a raw sound of agony. Light crackled along his skin, converging over his sigil. The golden lines began to glow and then flared as if it was in pain too.

“Tristan!” I slammed my hands against the barrier, cold as winter glass and just as unyielding. My palms stung from the impact, but I hit it again, throwing my weight against the empty air. “Tristan, look at me!”

His head whipped toward the sound of my voice. Gold had nearly covered the blue of his irises, and the light from his sigil cast his face into sharp relief. He strained against the leather at his wrists and ankles, and his fingers splayed, trembling with the effort to bridge the five feet separating us. Although his lips moved as if trying to shape words, all that came out were ragged gasps.

Holding his gaze, I reached for him with my empathy. His desperation and fear surged to me, but I couldn't touch the physical pain. All I could do was offer him a little calm. Tristan took it, his gaze going steady, and closed his eyes.

Fabian turned a dial. “Stop fighting it.” His voice rose above the roar of the machinery. “Cast off the weight, Tristan. Let it pass to her.”

Tristan opened his eyes, and I saw the decision in them. I nodded. Yes, let it go. Trust in Heartbreak.

The air pressure dropped so fast my ears popped.

Heartbreak didn't leave Tristan as I expected. I thought it might rise from him like a ghost or seep from his skin. Instead, it burst out of his chest in a roaring tempest of void-black misty energy, incinerating his shirt as it left. It eclipsed the overhead lights, and went sheer, its roiling center sparking with silver veins.

Osric adjusted something, shouting, “Go to her! She's right there!”

The black storm surged across the room, expanding and contracting as if breathing. The enormity of it astounded me, and I had the craziest thought that it couldn't possibly fit in me. Tendrils snaked from the central mass, testing the air like snake tongues. They turned toward me, all of them at once.

I braced myself, planting my feet on the concrete in a wide stance, ready for the crushing grief to hit my chest. But I knew how to ease that storm, and I wouldn't fight it. I'd welcome it and love it until it subsided. My barriers were down, my mind wide open, and I felt it—the churning pain of its existence.

Reach for what has no substance, balance what has no weight, and love what cannot be loved.

“I love you!” I called to Heartbreak.

The force gathered and shot toward me. I didn't close my eyes. I would meet it in love, not fear. I opened my arms. Heartbreak pulled up short and loomed before me like a thundercloud. The silver within it sparked. Pain pressed against my questing mind. But within the pain, I felt determination, ancient wisdom, and . . . love.

Tears gathered in my eyes. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. I could hold Heartbreak, and Tristan would be free, just as Fabian said. “I see you, and I accept you. It's all right. You'll be safe with me.”

It's love touched mine, and my mind was washed in gold. I sucked in a breath, waiting for it to enter me. But it drew back, the silver steaks glowing brighter, sparking more violently. As it withdrew, I felt its fury.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered.

Heartbreak surged upward like a bird of prey, curling back around at the ceiling, and whipped through the chamber with terrifying malice. Without a body to temper it, Heartbreak was in its purest form. It was loss, pain, panic, fear, and fury. But not just any fury. Heartbreak was enraged because the people it loved were being threatened.

It turned the full force of its fury on Fabian first. The impact lifted him off his feet, hurling him ten feet across the room. He crashed into a steel workbench, sending instruments clattering onto the floor, and the whole of it collapsed on him.

Osric dropped flat behind the main console. A tendril of bubbling black snapped over him, shearing clean through two overhead pipes. When it went for Bart, he ducked as well, but he wasn't fast enough. A strangled wail came out of Bart as raw emotional devastation tore through him. He fell to his knees, his hands clawing at his face, vomiting onto the concrete as his own Curse buckled beneath a tide of sorrow. Curling into a tight ball on the floor, he shuddered violently.