Níl mé in ann ach luí anseo, ag guí go gcuimhneoidh an cú ifrinn a shábháil mé díreach ar thrócaire seachas ar an ocras.(All I can do is lie here, praying that the hellhound I just saved remembers mercy instead of hunger.)
With Thorne out of my way, nothing stands between me and the banshee. Finally, her power will be mine. More than that, I want to feel her break. I want to taste the moment her scream turns from defiance to despair. I’ll savour it. She’ll beg without even knowing she’s begging, her voice spilling that sweet power straight into my hands. I’ll drink it down, until her throat is raw and her soul is threadbare.
Aoibhfidh mé agus í ag titim as a chéile.(I’ll smile while she crumbles.)
With the weight of dead stone, I drag Thorne. His body leaving a streak in the dirt, a reminder of his failure. I don’t bother to be gentle, why would I? He was a pain in my ass, nothing more.
When I reach the tomb, everything inside me stops. The air tastes burnt, like the aftermath of lightning striking bone. The stone I sealed shut lies in ruin in the centre of the chamber.What's left was once solid granite, now it’s fractured. Great slabs split apart as if it was torn open from within. Dust and chard litter the floor, the ancient runes carved into its face are now nothing but jagged wounds in the stone.
Furious, I step into the ruin, my heels crunching over crumbled rock. The scent of the human still lingers, but there’s something else, something older.Something that should not be.The veil itself feels torn, cracked where he broke through.
He didn’t just escape, he changed.
With fury crawling down my spine, I bare my teeth to the darkness. Beneath the rage is a twisted kind of hunger. The banshee’s pathetic little lover isn’t human anymore. He’s something… more. Something dangerous and now, more than ever, I must have him.
A hiss slides between my lips as I stare into the empty tomb, the stench of ash clawing at my nose. The untamed power spilling from the cracks in the rocks. I felt it when I dragged him across the veil. But, I ignored it. Now it sings to me, loud and impossible to ignore.
A smile curves my lips, sharp and cold. That stupid human doesn’t even know what’s happening to him, he’s nothing but a child playing with fire, and I’ll be the one to strip the flames from his hands before they consume him. My nails drag over the stone wall, leaving faint gouges as I breathe in deep. His trail is everywhere. Each pulse of it makes my skin prickle, making the hunger in me roar because it isn’t just the human I want anymore. It’s the storm waking inside him… and… I will have it.
That power is ancient. Stronger than anything that banshee bitch will ever cradle in her throat. Her scream is a toy compared to this.
The tomb still reeks of ash, but beneath it there’s a thread that’s impossible to miss. His power sings to me. It thrums as though it’s a pulse through the veil itself, tugging me forward with every beat.
He’s trying to run. Cute. As if he could ever hide something this loud from me. I close my eyes and let the hunger swallow me whole. I concentrate on him, and there it is, his flicker, his light. Moving fast, wild, as if he’s prey who hasn’t yet realized the predator already has its teeth in his throat.
“You can run, little spark,” I murmur, tasting the words as though they’re blood on my tongue. “I will find you… and when I do…” I lick the corner of my mouth, my breath catching on a laugh that scrapes raw in my throat. “I’ll rip that ancient power out of your chest and drink it dry.”
With the thrill of the hunt coursing through me, I nearly forget about Thorne, cocooned and helpless behind me. Fuck. The thought sharpens my focus. I can’t risk turning my back on him, not even for a second, not when this new power is just within reach.
Darkness shifts around me, its shadows curling like fingers, whispering promises of what I’ll take from him. Thorne… he’s still here, a reminder of what I’ve already conquered and what I can’t afford to lose control over. One misstep, and everything could unravel.
With a flick of my wrist, my hair grips around Thorne, dragging him toward a separate, ancient tomb. The stone creaks and hums, resonating with the power I’m siphoning from the air around us.
He thrashes weakly, muffled grunts and protests spilling from the cocoon, but it’s no use. The shadow devours him like a mouth swallowing a meal, sealing him inside the tomb with bindings of old, unbreakable magic. The edges glow faintly red, resonating with the ferocity of my intent.
“Stay put,” I hiss under my breath, the sound more a warning than plea. “You’re not part of this hunt anymore.”
Thorne’s struggles fade into the dark silence of the tomb, and I turn my attention back to the real prize, the human and the raw, untamed power coursing through him. The thrill of the chase ignites a cold fire inside me.
With my senses sharpened, I slink through the shadows, every nerve tuned to the faint pulse of power that radiates from him. It’s like a beacon, and it makes my blood hum with anticipation. He doesn’t know I’m coming. He can’t. I’ve waited too long for this sort of power, and I won’t be denied.
“Run all you want, little spark… I’ll find the marrow in your bones before the night even remembers your name.”
Croía’s scent burns through me, relentless, as if it’s wedged deep in my chest. Every beat of my heart is hers now. It pulls at me like chains, dragging me through the dark. My veins thrum with a hunger I don’t understand, something primal that answers only to her. The closer I let myself lean into it, the more the air around me twists, as if the entire world wants me to find her, to tear down anything that stands in my way.
No longer fighting it, I let the power drag me. It knows her as well as I do. The darkness bends when I move, splitting open to reveal trails of her essence. It’s not sight, or sound, but something deeper. A tether buried inside me, yanking me forward.
The further I follow it, the less human I feel. My footsteps don’t echo anymore; the shadows swallow them whole. My skin prickles, alive with heat and static. Her scent is as sharp as lightning. My teeth grind and my muscles snap tight. I would ripthis world apart if it meant she was at the end of this trail.
Níl aon rud eile tábhachtach. Ní cé mé féin, ní cad atá mé ag éirí. Ise amháin. Croía.(Nothing else matters. Not who I was, not what I’m becoming. Only her. Croía.)
Her scent leads me to a castle, its silhouette jagged against the blackening sky. Its towers claw at the clouds like desperate fingers, and shattered windows stare as if they’re blind eyes. The stone is darkened with soot and age, streaked with ivy that drips as though it’s veins over the walls. Gargoyles leer from ledges, frozen in grotesque snarls. The gates are massive iron beasts, scarred with old scratches that seem to whisper of those who dared enter and failed. It smells of damp stone and rot, both a warning and a lure. My chest thrums with power, urging me forward. She’s here, somewhere inside. I can feel her presence.
With my bare footsteps silent on the cracked cobblestones, I circle the castle’s perimeter. Shadows twist and stretch unnaturally in the dim light, as if the walls themselves are watching. Every gargoyle’s leer seems to follow me, mocking, daring me to step closer. Windows gape as if they’re empty sockets, revealing nothing but darkness inside.
Desperate to find Croía, I weave through the undergrowth away from the main gates. Branches and thorns snag at my naked body, but I barely notice. I don’t rush. I stalk. Every corner could hide a trap. The power inside me hums, guiding my steps with a magnetic pull toward her.
Careful not to disturb the brittle glass, I find a broken window and slip through. The air inside is thick with dust,and something metallic that makes my stomach twist. Torches flicker along the walls, casting long shadows that crawl across the dark stone. Every creaking beam, every distant drip of water, makes my senses flare.
