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"Get back!" Draven shouted, pulling his mate into Shadow form with him.
I reached for Raven, intending to do the same when a male's voice projected up from the object and said, "Hello, little one."
Within the steady beam of light emitting skyward, there stood a male with all the markings of a Shadow demon. Though his silver hair was much lighter than mine and Draven’s, the coloring against olive skin was what we Shadow demons were known for.
Well, that, and our penchant for violence. It wasn’t that we sought it, it was more that we were good at it. Few factions caused issues for us these days.
"If you can see me," the stranger's dreamlike timbre vibrated through the air, "then I am no longer of this world, and for that I am very sorry. I would never willingly leave you."
Lyric made a quiet, distressed sound.
"I had this aislen stone created for you so that you would have access to memories I'm not around to share. It is my hope you may learn from them, and, if necessary, have no doubt how much you and your mother meant to me. I hope you find me worthy."
Someone sniffled. Lyric. I didn't look over. She wouldn't want anyone gawking and I wasn't in a teasing mood.
More words came from the male but they were electrified and distorted, on waves of static. The light flickered.
“Maybe it’s running out of power,” Phalen guessed. “It is pretty old.”
Raven took a single step closer. "That's not how fae magic works, not with an object like this."
"How–"
Draven never got out his question. A current of power discharged, skating my skin and all around the perimeter of our circle. My hair stood on end.
"Lyric?" my cousin barked at his mate.
"Raven!" she shouted in response.
I whipped around, my gaze finding my mate. She stood in arm’s reach, her face a mask of terror. Her hands shook as she tried to take a step forward.
That's when I saw the blood.
Dark red seeped into her shirt from the skin underneath. Her eyes were wide with shock and panic, but there was something else there too. Resignation, like someone who knew what was coming next and couldn't run away from it.
Horror seized my mind.
My hand clasped her arm and suddenly I was tumbling through the dark until I found myself standing in a dimly lit room surrounded by rock and filled with dank air.
A menacing chuckle drew my attention to the corner behind me. An enormous male in dark leathers stood over a table, blocking my view of the face of the female strapped to it.
I didn't have to see her face to know who it was. Silent fury pulsed through my veins as I charged him, intent on removing his helmeted head from his thick neck.
I met air and stumbled through his mass, like he was an apparition. I passed through Raven and the table and came to a stop on the other side. Bracing for the image that would surely char itself upon my psyche for all of time, I turned.
Raven's gaze was on the ceiling. She didn't scream as her torturer used her skin as his canvas. Though her expression remained stoic, tears ran down her cheeks like blades and sliced my heart in two.
The male hummed merrily as he brandished a shallowly curved blade, likely made of iron from the near-black look of it. Upon his chest was the Queen’s standard.
Raven's blood wept in rivulets down the sides of the table and pooled on the ground. A scream rose from my chest as he continued his work, slicing deep into her delicate skin and then slowly pushing granules of salt into the oozing gashes.
His face lowered close to her ear. “You’ll wear my name in your skin the rest of your days, Raveena.”
Raven’s eyes darted to his.
“Oh, yes,” he purred, tracing the letters he’d chiseled into flesh with his gloved hand. “I was allowed to mark you however I chose. The Queen promised I could have you. I can’t wait to feel the ridges of this particular scar against my abdomen once I’m allowed between your legs.”
Raven blinked rapidly, clearing her eyes of moisture and revealing the dim fire behind them.
