That's basic binding magic, Idris points out.What makes this permanent?
"Intent," Caspian says simply. "We have to mean it. All seven of us, speaking the binding words, committing to this connection. No reservations. No doubts. The magic will know if we're lying."
Silence.
Seven angels look at each other, weighing the cost. Permanent connection. To me. To each other through me. Forever.
"I'm in," Croesus says immediately.
"Obviously you are," Seraph mutters. But then, surprising everyone including himself: "I'm in as well. She's too valuable to lose."
She saw through my shapeshifting, Idris says. That's rare. I'm in.
"She fights like wrath incarnate," Kael says, ember eyes burning. "I want to see what else she can do. I'm in."
"She makes me laugh," Dorian offers. "That alone is worth the cost. I'm in."
Lysander studies me with those purple eyes, seeing something I can't name. "She survived absorbing lust so strong, it should have destroyed her. She's stronger than she looks. I'm in."
Everyone turns to Caspian.
The Angel of Sloth meets their gazes, one by one. "I suggested this ritual. Of course I'm in." He pauses. "Though I should warn you, once this is complete, we'll be tied to each other as well. Not as strongly as we're tied to her, but the connection will be there. You'll feel each other faintly. Know when the others are in danger, in pain."
"Wonderful," Seraph says dryly. "Seven other voices in my head. Just what I've always wanted."
"Better than her dying," Croesus snaps.
No one argues with that.
"Then let's begin," Caspian says. "Before we lose her."
Dorian produces the ceremonial knife, silver, etched with symbols. The same one from the temporary binding ritual. Except this time, the magic will be permanent.
"We start with blood," Caspian instructs. "Each of us cuts our palm. Raven in the center. When all eight bloodlines are mixed, we speak the words."
One by one, the angels draw the blade across their palms.
Croesus crawls across the star to me, knife in his uninjured hand. "This will hurt," he warns.
"Everything hurts," I point out.
His smile is brief, sad. "Fair point." He takes my hand, so gentle despite the urgency. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just save me."
He draws the blade across my palm.
Croesus lifts my bleeding hand, lets my blood drip onto the center of the star where all seven points meet. Where their blood already pools, mixing, creating something new.
The moment my blood touches theirs, the magic reacts.
The chamber blazes with light, gold and silver and all the colors in between. The seven-pointed star etched into the floor ignites, every line glowing as power floods through it. The seven points above us, the representations of the seven Houses, pulse in response.
"Now," Caspian says. "Everyone place your hand on her. Skin to skin. Create the physical connection."
The angels move. Croesus keeps hold of my bleeding hand, his blood mixing with mine. Seraph places a palm on my forehead, cool and perfect. Idris touches my left shoulder. Kael grasps my right shoulder, his grip burning hot. Lysander takes my free hand, his touch sending warmth through my arm. Dorian places his hand over my heart. And Caspian reaches forward with visible effort, touches my ankle.
Eight beings. Connected through blood and touch and desperation.
