The cursed ritual was complete. Power surged through me—I was whole again. My ravens rushed to the tall ceiling, leaving behind the hospital bed, the chains, and the torment.
When the storm of magic subsided and my human form returned, Daphne stood before me, eyes brimming.
“Emrys,” she breathed.
I held her, ignoring the smiles Camille and Orren exchanged.
The last thing I remembered was the pain and her voice. Now, she stood before me, transformed. Not just stronger—radiant with something wild and ancient. A part of me wanted to kneel. The rest simply wanted to hold her and never let go.
“We made it,” I whispered, lost to the feeling of her in my arms. Our lips met—soft at first, then urgent—and the world stopped mattering.
A not-so-polite cough interrupted us.
“Apologies for cutting short this heartfelt reunion, but we have a monster to cage,” Orren said and entered the Roads.
I followed, staggering, holding Daphne’s hand.
I would never let her go again.
“Are you sure this is the right one?” Daphne asked, peering into the darkness. Even her voice had changed after the Surge. It was like a blade wrapped in silk. Like a void full of leviathans beneath the calm surface of a lake.
“Of course,” Maerya said, lighting a torch with a flick of her fingers. “It’s called the Pit of Memory. Sinners were walled in here to relive the moments of their failures forever.”
The chamber was round and strangely silent, its black stone walls swallowing even our footsteps. No doors. No windows. Only a sarcophagus at its center, like it had always waited for this.
“Charming,” Orren said. “Those people were obsessed with death.”
Daphne looked around. “No. They were obsessed with immortality. Look at what they built.”
The Renegade, bound in Orren’s roots and smudged with Camille’s crimson sigils, flinched. It was a barely visible move, but still there. He was afraid.
“You think this can hold me?” he growled. “You think you’ve won—but I am a promise. I am a legend. A god. There’ll always be humans hungry for power. Starving for magic. They’ll find me. They always do.”
Maerya glared at him and flashed him one of her rare smiles. “If each one of us seals it with a binding word, and I order the Dead to guard? I certainly think you’ll spend eternity alone.” She walked to the sarcophagus at the center. Its lid wasopen, darkness leaking from the inside. There were no carvings, no symbols on its smooth granite walls.
The Renegade’s face drained of color. “And you think you’re better than me?” He laughed drily. “Cowards! Monsters!”
Camille muttered some words of power, and his limbs twisted at painful-looking angles. Hissing, he crawled into the sarcophagus.
“Let’s seal this monster into his forever box,” Orren said. The heavy lid moved slowly, inch by inch, the sound reminding me of grinding teeth. The air chilled.
“Should we put any warnings here? Like do not open or something?” Daphne mused.
The stone settled with an ominous thud, muffling Cagliostro’s pleas and threats.
“This chamber has no doors, child. It’s deep beneath the main pyramid and no graverobber or curious soul could make it past my… lines of defense.” Maerya licked her lips and started murmuring ancient words.
Camille stepped toward the sarcophagus. She took a brooch from her elegant dress and pricked her finger with the pin.
“Blood remembers,” she said, letting the drops trickle down the lid. The blood vanished as if the polished stone drank it.
For a moment, no one moved. Orren cracked his knuckles and stepped forward, roots already curling at his heels. He grinned. “A bloody elegant binding. Look at mine! This bastard would never get out of here! Stone binds!” Orren shouted. The granite groaned underfoot. Roots rose fromcracks in the stone floor and wrapped around the sarcophagus, sprouting sharp thorns. “If a mortal touches these thorns, they’d drop dead! How do you like this finishing touch, Camille? Having those Sleeping Beauty moments all day.” Camille grinned back.
Maerya threw a carved stone into the briar. “Death watches,” she said, and the walls shuddered. Murmurs in some unknown language stirred in the dark corners. I knew her Dead were already lining up along the walls.
I took a feather from my wing, wincing at the sting. Never liked that.
“A bit dramatic, Emrys, don’t you think?” Camille cackled.
