Arion smiled, closing his eyes. “I’ll say it…because—” a groan escaped him, “—because he—he can’t…I love you.”
The magic rolled over her, not violent this time, but inevitable. Arion's essence, everything he was, flowed from his dying body into hers. The warmth in her chest recognized it, welcomed it, even as it burned through her.
And then she felt it, the pull toward Eliam. The two halves yearning to reunite after so long apart. The star metal pendant couldn't stop this, this natural flow of magic returning to where it belonged.
She could have fought it. Could have tried to contain it, to keep Arion's essence with her.
Instead, she let go.
The relief was immediate. The magic flowed through her like she was nothing more than a conduit, Arion's light streaming from her chest toward Eliam. She could feel every moment of it—memories that weren't hers, emotions she'd never experienced, the weight of centuries flowing through her in seconds.
It should have killed her. She could feel her body failing, her heart struggling under the strain, her bones feeling like they might shatter from containing so much power even temporarily.
But she didn't care. Arion was dying in front of her, and if reuniting him with Eliam was the last thing she did, then at least his death would have meaning.
Golden light erupted from her chest, arcing across the seal toward Eliam like lightning seeking ground. When it hit him, he gasped, doubling over as his other half returned home after centuries of separation.
Briar collapsed forward onto her hands, gasping. Copper filled her mouth. Blood ran warm from her nose, dripping onto the carved stone. Every nerve was on fire but she held onto consciousness through sheer will.
Arion's body was fading, becoming translucent as his essence completed its journey. His fingers twitched, reaching for her. His lips moved: "Remember me."
Then nothing. Empty air where he'd been.
"No!" Malus roared, autumn decay already pooling around his hands. "The power was supposed to come tome!"
Eliam straightened slowly from where he'd collapsed. The movement should have been labored, should have shown weakness after centuries of being fractured. Instead, he rose with fluid grace, his body humming with power that radiated outward in visible waves. The shadows beneath his feet spread across the stone, and where they touched, new growth erupted. Silver-edged thorns pushed through cracks in the ancient seal, gleaming with cold starlight.
His eyes burned with impossible patterns. Shadow and light swirled together in his irises, darkness and radiance fighting for dominance and somehow coexisting. When he spoke, his voice carried doubled harmonics, as if two people spoke in perfect unison.
"Hello, brother."
Malus raised his hands defensively, autumn decay gathering in poisonous clouds between his fingers. "You're still adjusting to being whole again. You can barely control it."
"Are you so sure?"
Eliam moved.
One moment he stood across the seal. The next he was there, directly in front of Malus, crossing the distance faster than Briar's eyes could track. His fist connected with Malus's jaw with enough force to send him stumbling backward. Thorned vines erupted from the seal beneath Malus's feet, forcing him to leap away or be impaled.
The chanting guards broke formation, scattering as the brothers collided again in the center of the seal. The ritual was forgotten. Whatever they'd been building dissolved into chaos.
Malus sent autumn wind howling across the clearing, leaves that aged flesh on contact, decay that withered everything it touched. Eliam dodged with speed and precision that hadn't existed before while striking with the same brutal efficiency he'd always possessed. Where Malus brought death, Eliam brought violent growth. Vines moved with purpose, thorns sought flesh with clear intent, and all of it gleamed with that silver-starlight edge that refused to succumb to decay.
"Impossible," Malus gasped, twisting sideways as silver-edged thorns whistled past his ear. One caught his cheek, tearing a line from temple to jaw that immediately welled crimson.
"I'm whole." Eliam's movements had changed—where before he'd been predictable, now he flowed between fighting styles. A brutal downward strike shifted mid-swing into a graceful arc that opened a gash across Malus's ribs. "For the first time in centuries, I'm whole."
Malus stumbled over a crack in the seal, his elegant coat now torn in a dozen places, blood seeping through autumn-gold fabric. He raised his hands, decay billowing out, but Eliam walked through it. The rot that should have aged him to dust slid off like water, repelled by silver light that danced just beneath his skin.
"You're finished," Eliam said, thorns erupting from the ground at Malus's feet, forcing him to leap back. More thorns, from the left, the right, above—a cage of silver-edged death closing in. "Surrender."
"Never." Malus spat blood, crimson stark against his pale face. His perfectly styled hair hung in sweat-soaked strands. "This is my court. My forest. You were just keeping it warm for me."
"Your court?" Eliam raised his hand, fingers splaying wide.
The air changed. Pressure built, the kind that comes before lightning strikes. Briar felt it in her bones—Eliam reaching for something ancient, something that had slept in roots and soil since before the courts existed. The deep magic. The forest's own will.
The clearing went silent. Not even breath disturbed the air.
