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More demons erupt from the ground, forcing me to change direction every few yards. Even then, I must dodge and leap to avoid colliding with countless others. All the while, the one hunting me follows entirely too close. Jaws snapping. Claws pounding in a steady beat.
Without warning, my strength ebbs. My power siphoning it away as it vanishes. I stumble over the newly uneven terrain, staggering, barely catching myself in several graceless strides.
Searing hot pain rips down my back. Spine arching, my pace falters. One strike is quickly followed by another. Again and again and again and again. Shredding my skin into ribbons, then my arms and chest. The overwhelming agony steals the breath from my lungs. Inch by inch, my flesh is sliced away.
My knees buckle and hit the ground with bone-cracking force. Talons assault my arms and chest, the scrape of their sharp points leaving behind trails of caustic poison until I cannot see or hear or think. Until there is nothing other than unimaginable pain.
I wait for the demon to finish killing me. And wait.
And wait.
Gradually, my senses return.
I lull my head to the side. Vaguely, I notice the demons are nowhere in sight. The destruction they wrought as they broke through the rocky ground has been undone as if it never happened.
Distantly, I am aware I must stanch the flow of blood before I bleed out. Somehow, I find the strength to lift my hand to my chest. Delirium oozes in, corrupting reality.
I find my clothes dry and untorn, but my palm comes away stained and dripping red. I cannot seem to drag my gaze away, and the longer I stare at it, the more familiar this moment feels.
This…. this pain, this torture… it’s familiar.
The ghost of a dream that fades upon waking, leaving only slivers behind to tell you it was ever there at all. It is worse than anything I’ve felt before… not since… since—
This has happened before.
This is my death—or what would have been—had I chosen differently.
If I had not chosen…
“Rosalie.” Her name is little more than a whisper on my lips. And with it comes flashes of memory. Sharp and fast, in a whirling torrent of confusion.
Howling.
Blood.
So much blood. Too much.
I am trapped in my own body. The cold fingers of death seep into my limbs, and I welcome it. Because I am ready to die… for someone.
A woman’s screams—herscreams.
Rosalie.
My sister falls to the forest floor, stirring up a whirl of leaves. Pale hair, tangled and stained dark from open wounds. Her bloodless lips move, opening and closing, gasping for breath. Tears spill from the sapphire depths of eyes identical to my own. I drag my hand over the damp loam until my fingers brush hers.
Rosalie…
She shouldn’t be here.Why is she here?
I press my hands to my temples, trying to slow the images, to separate the sounds as they repeat, mixing together.
A sultry voice like smoke and treacle. An offer of power. Power I can use to save her—to save Rosalie.
For that, I would give anything.
I will give everything.
Warm breath whispers in my ear. “But first you must change. Only when you are immortal, will you be able to save your beloved sister… I can show you how.”
