“What makes you think we’d risk using dark magic for your son? Even the most potent covens don’t possess such power.”
“You’re the oracle, a high priestess, the first of your kind. You hold the power even if your coven doesn’t,” Slavic retorts, self-assured.
“A power I’d never harness for such a vile cause. Your son’s fate is deserved. Yours will be no different,” I snap back, not cowering under his malicious glare. His hand lashes out, connecting with my cheek, a prelude to the mayhem about to ensue.
Chapter Forty-Three
King Slavic’s brutal laughter echoes ominously as the guards drag Zeke into the room. His body hangs limp, a human puppet for Slavic’s sadistic amusement.
“I will not help you. Not after you’ve drugged my mates, you monster!” I spit, my words stoking the embers of his rage. Slavic’s boot collides with my side, sending pain radiating through me. But the physical hurt pales in comparison to the roaring inferno of determination within me.
Elias drags me to the center of the room by my hair. I thrash in his grip, and the coven struggles against the guards. Malachi screams when I am dumped on the floor. I’m suddenly pulled to my feet by my hair.
Standing in the center of the vast, ominous room, a freezing shiver runs up my spine. It’s a cavernous space, dimly lit by a haunting glow reflecting off the cold stone walls. It feels like a crypt—an apt place for the vile King Slavic to demand the impossible. To breathe life back into the lifeless. My heart clenches with a seething mixture of dread and rage.
A caustic gaze rakes over me, its source none other than the king himself. His eyes are an eerie shade of red, sparkling with cold, calculating cruelty that reflects his inhuman nature. A tyrant, a tormentor, a murderer. The mere sight of him stokes the flames of hatred within me.
A guard wrenches Kelly away from me without a second thought, and as Malachi tries to break free from his chains, a guard with a bar cruelly beats him for his struggle. My lips press into a tight line of defiance as I lift my chin.
“You are rather insolent, witch,” Slavic spits. His words hang heavily in the air, the threat behind them implicit. “You’ll bring back my son or every last one of you shall pay the ultimate price.”
A surge of anger rushes through me, pushing me to the brink of retaliation. My fingers twitch, yearning to weave a hex, a curse to make him suffer. But the harsh reality of my weakened magic steadies my hand.
“The rules of magic are not so malleable,” I respond, striving to keep my voice steady, lacing it with as much steel as I can muster. “Death is a boundary even the mightiest witches can’t breach.”
His face twists into an ugly snarl of anger.
“My threats are not idle, witch,” he growls, his voice a menacing rumble. “For every member of your coven who defies me, their blood will stain my hands. Defy me, and I start with Kelly.”
His words strike me like a physical blow, the blood draining from my face. My gaze sweeps over my coven members, their faces reflecting their terror, their eyes pleading for a reprieve we can’t afford. We are in no state to fight back.
The tendrils of desperation coil tighter around me, forcing me to contemplate the unthinkable. A blood spell. It’s a dangerous game to play. It’s something that should never be taken lightly, but with our backs to the wall, it’s our only shot at survival until Regan comes for us. If he comes for us.
Slavic’s cold, dead eyes dig into me as strong hands grasp my chin and yank my head back. “So should I get started?” he asks, and I glare at him.
When I say nothing, he glances over his shoulder. “I’ll do it,” I respond, my voice carrying a steel-edged finality. “I can attempt the blood spell. But beware the repercussions if it fails.”
A hideous smirk tugs at the corners of Slavic’s lips, his eyes gleaming with cruel anticipation. “You will do as you are told,” he declares, his voice thick with a threatening promise. “Fail, and Kelly’s life is forfeit.”
A knot forms in my stomach, a bitter cocktail of fear and despair swirling within me. But I know this is my only hope to save Kelly, my coven, Malachi, and my mates. The cost of a blood spell is steep, but the price of failure is far steeper.
Slavic shoves me toward his son’s body, and I gag at the sight of him. With a deep breath, I reach into the depths of my being, gathering every remaining ounce of strength. I press my palms onto the cold stone floor, my blood mixing with the residual traces of my coven. The air thickens as I murmur ancient words, an invocation older than time. A desperate plea to the universe.
“Through blood, we are bound, through blood we command. Life for life, tie the bond as I demand. Connect the son to his sire, bind their fates in this dire hour.”
Each word weaves an invisible tapestry of power in the cold, damp air. The world around me vibrates with the raw force of the spell, an oppressive weight pressing down on me.
Suddenly, the eerie calm shatters with a heart-wrenching scream. Zeke is hoisted higher, his body a disturbing puppet in Slavic’s gruesome show. The whip cracks against his back, each lash splatters the air with crimson droplets. Each scream is a chilling symphony of pain, the horrifying backdrop to Slavic’s monstrous laughter.
“Resurrect my son, or he will suffer more,” Slavic sneers, reveling in the macabre spectacle he’s orchestrated.
Chapter Forty-Four
Just as I’m about to collapse, a feral roar shatters the silence as my surroundings blur and my ears ring loudly. It’s Malachi. His body convulses, his chains rattling in a frenzied dance. His eyes flash with an animalistic fury as he lunges at Slavic. There’s a gut-wrenching crunch, a too-loud gasp, and then silence as he hangs limply from the chains.
“You’ll bring him back or watch them all die,” Slavic’s voice slithers into my ear, a bone-chilling promise. He nods to his guards, and suddenly they are whipping Zeke again. Clawed chains belt his skin, thick leather whips spray blood along the walls, and his screams die as he passes out.
I shakily push to my knees as I watch Zeke crumple under each merciless lash. “Stop!” I cry out. My voice is raw and aching. “Please, stop!”
