"Where are you going?" Brax rises with her, hovering like a concerned shadow.
"I need to prepare her body," her voice cracks but steadies. "The Ritual of Last Light. We have to cleanse her essence and guide her soul to the Summerlands before..." She swallows hard. "Before darkness claims it."
Seraphina's lashes flutter against my chest before those honey-gold eyes find mine. "I need to help her," she breathes against my lips, the ghost of a kiss lingering as she rises to follow Emily.
I beeline for the crystal decanter like it holds the answers to everything that is fucked up. The bourbon burns like liquid courage as I slam it back, then pour another for my favorite demon."Here. You look like you need this as much as I do."
Brax drains the glass like he's dying of thirst in hell.
The basement door nearly flies off its hinges as Damon explodes into the room, face twisted in panic. His eyes lock onto the sheet-covered form and—Ah, shit.
He crumples to his knees, fangs dropping in distress. "No... that's not—it can't be—"
Perfect. Because watching the baby vamp discover his almost-girlfriend is dead is exactly how I wanted this night to end.
Damon crawls toward Sable's body, his hand trembling as it reaches for the sheet. He pulls the sheet back slightly, then jerks back like he's been burned.
"How?" The word scrapes from his throat. "How??"
Christ.The bourbon's not nearly strong enough for this conversation."Morgan," I spit the name like poison. "And some hooded asshole with a fetish for explosions."
A sound rips from Damon's chest—something between a snarl and a sob. His fingers curl into fists against the hardwood, leaving gouges in my imported fucking flooring.
Emily and Seraphina return, arms laden with ritual supplies. Damon's head snaps up, wild eyes finding Emily's tear-stained face."Fix this," he pleads, voice raw. "You're a witch. You can—you have to—"
Emily's shoulders slump under the weight of those words. "Damon, I..."
Fuck my entire immortal life. This night just keeps getting better and better.
Emily's knees hit the floor beside him, her voice splintering. "Ican't. God, Damon, I tried. I poured everything I had into her, but..." Her hands spread helplessly. "The damage was too extensive. Even magic has limits."
Damon's fangs drop fully, his eyes bleeding to black. The sound that comes from him is pure anguish—primal and broken."Then what's the point?" He surges to his feet, power rolling off him in waves. "What's the fucking point of all this magic if you can't—"
"Enough." Seraphina's voice cracks, her divine energy filling the room. "This isn't helping her soul find peace."
Emily begins arranging crystals around Sable's body, her hands shaking but determined. Salt follows, forming a perfect circle. The sharp scent of sage cuts through the heavy air as she lights the bundle.
"We can't save her body," Emily's voice steadies as she slips into ritual mode. "But we can protect her soul. Guide her to the light. It's... it's all we can do now."
Damon sinks back to his knees, the fight draining from him like blood from a wound. His fingers brush the edge of the salt circle, andfuck—I've never seen devastation wear a face so young.
Some nights, being immortal really fucking sucks.
Emily slowly removes the sheet from Sable, revealing her wounds. And Damon lets out a sob.
Emily's voice rises and falls in ancient cadence, Latin phrases weaving through smoke-heavy air. Candles suddenlywhooshto life around us, their flames dancing unnaturally tall, throwing twisted shadows across the walls.
The crystals begin to pulse with soft light, and the salt circle takes on an ethereal glow. Damon hasn't moved, frozen in his grief like some tragic marble statue.
"Lux aeterna luceat ei..." Emily's chanting reaches a crescendo——Wait.
What the...Sable's chest wound is...closing?
I blink hard, but nope, definitely seeing skin knit together like some twisted time-lapse video.
Her finger twitches.
No fucking way.
