Malakai
The blindingflash of Ophelia’s light was quickly swallowed by the god’s mist. A white wave stronger than any I’d seen him emit so far.
When the magic cleared and Ophelia asked, “What?” there was no inflection to her tone. She tilted her head at him, her fingers not fidgeting at her sides. My blood chilled when I caught those magenta eyes.
It wasn’t Ophelia looking back at me. Not entirely.
A haze stole her expression as she observed my chains, my kneeling position in the center of the ballroom. Lucidius’s dagger burned at my back as if in warning that something was very fucking wrong. Spirits, I’d barely seen her recently. When had she grownthisdistant?
The Angels watched raptly, lining the side of the ballroom with varying levels of concern or entertainment in their expressions. The sun was just cresting the mountains, pouring gold over their wings.
And Rozelyn, for Spirits’ sake, was throwing me smug, knowing glances from her perch on Echnid’s chair. At least Iknew I hadn’t imagined her. She’d been the one that dragged me here. Not that that comforted me at fucking all, now.
“Do we know that he can become a seraph?” Ophelia asked in that unnaturally calm voice. The same one in which she’d insisted that maybe Echnid had more of a point than we’d considered.
“You woke the myth inside of you,” the god replied with cool control.
Ophelia’s hand flexed at her sides, the fog in her eyes faltering for a brief moment before she fell still. Mystlight glinted off the wings carving her dress. “And Malakai retains the same power?”
“Seraphs and warriors are wrought of similar compositions,” Echnid stated.
“I haven’t even completed the Undertaking,” I argued, latching on to anything. “Whatever you think will happen won’t work.”
“Only one way to find out,” Echnid said with a shrug.
Ophelia tilted her head again, this time studying me. In her palms, Angellight budded, trying to break free. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head.
“I can’t do this,” she said, attention whipping to Echnid.
The cerberus growled, and Echnid’s power swelled, reminding Ophelia that while she may be the last seraph, he was a fucking god.
“You will.” Anguish ripped through his voice. “Unless you’d prefer one of your other friends. Perhaps your sister or that warrior you love.”
“I-I—” Ophelia stuttered, shaking her head again as if to clear it. She blinked rapidly, light coming in short bursts in her palms, one color after another. She tried to control it, but each flash only made her shake her head more, that hazy stare warring with her.
“Phel?” I asked, my Bind thudding with streaky confusion.
She clenched her eyes, muttering, “He is trying to help. Trust him.”
Ophelia was so distracted, she missed the Warrior God’s haunting smile. “Thorn?”
And before I knew what was happening, I was being shredded. A lightning bolt cracked through my mind, pulling apart my memories, emotions, and being. Digging up the pain of my past torture and stuffing it down my damn throat.
I toppled to the side, chains rattling. And rattling. And rattling.
The sounds of my nightmares—of blades being sharpened and irons heated and those damn chains—was unceasing.
A sword slashed my side, a dagger carved my chest.
A whip—it tore and tore and tore at my back.
Someone was screaming. Two someones. One a high, demanding shriek and the other…me.
Gold light cracked through the ballroom, bouncing off marble—Ophelia. She’d exploded with it. The magic of all seven Angels swirled around her, stars shooting overhead and orange flickers of flame singeing her skirt.
“Stop! Stop!” Ophelia cried hoarsely, crashing down next to me. The world blurred, but her voice wavered over sobs as Thorn continued to rip my mind apart. Shocking amethyst and bright white lightning shot aimlessly from her as she begged. “Stop, please!”
Echnid snapped his fingers, and with one last wrenching roll of thunder, Thorn’s magic retreated. A piece of me sagged in relief as Ophelia met my eyes and worked to wrangle her power back into her body, one strand at a time.
