Not the Pit as she knew it, but something hazed, refracted.
A memory. But not hers.
The sensation was unnerving, like slipping into someone else’s skin. The air felt heavier here, weighted with emotions that didn’t belong to her—desperation, pain, a fierce, burning sorrow. The energy was distinctly male, threading through her mind like smoke, like a whispered command.See.
She followed the pull, unable to resist, her steps carrying her down the third tunnel until it opened into a wide room. Elara slowed, her throat going dry.
Godfrey.
He was shackled, a heavy chain stretched across the room and secured to a thick rope, allowing just enough slack for him to pace. His steps dragged, the restraint scraping softly against the stone floor.
He stood at one of the cluttered desks, movements slow and weary. Bruises darkened his arms and face; fresh cuts marked his skin, bleeding sluggishly. Around him, tables were strewn with alchemical tools—bubbling beakers, glass vials, bundles of strange herbs, half-burned candles flickering in the damp air.
The entire room felt wrong, saturated with something malevolent.
Elara froze, horror rooting her in place, as a Sidhe male emerged into view. He knelt on the ground, his arms stretched taut, chains biting into the wall behind him. His head lifted and her breath hitched. His piercing eyes seemed to cut through the haze of memory, fixing on her as if he knew she was there.
The male energy surged within her, a silent hum crackling in her veins, and she understood with a startling clarity.The memory was his.
Powerlessly, she watched as Godfrey began a ritualistic draining, the scene hauntingly familiar. Just as he had once violated her.
The Sidhe’s features contorted in agony, his body racked by searing torment as Godfrey ruthlessly siphoned his lifeblood, channeling it into luminescent symbols carved cruelly into his skin. His guttural scream tore through the illusion, through the Void, slicing clean through Elara’s heart. She watched, paralyzed, as what she could only assume was his spirit—a shimmering wisp of life—separated from him.
A frantic, crushing panic clawed its way up her throat, tightening her breath. Her heart thundered. She could do nothing but watch as the male sagged, his skin turning sallow.And still, Godfrey worked—methodical, unhurried. With each whispered incantation, the male’s very essence twisted and funneled into a glass beaker, swirling within it like a caged storm.
A life, asoul, reduced to nothing more than an ingredient.
Each droplet pulsed faintly, a dim light that flickered and faded as it merged with the potion, thickening, hardening. Finally, the crystalline substance took shape, its sharp facets catching the sparse light in the room, gleaming with a sinister glow as Godfrey set it into an iron ring.
A cold unlike anything she’d known crept up Elara’s spine, seeping into her bones like ice through fractured glass. The room blurred at the edges of her vision, narrowing to the ring.
Ether.Draoth. It wasn’t hers. It had never been hers.
Her breath hitched, chest feeling as if it had cracked wide open, the ridged pieces slicing through her insides.
The Convergence Ceremony was a farce.
It hadalwaysbeen them—the Sidhe.
Their heartbeats, their very essence, drained to feed the wellspring of mortal power.
Her stomach churned violently, a hot, sour burn rising in her throat. She doubled over, gasping. Every strand of ether she’d ever felt—the shimmering threads, the gentle hum—now seemed to scream, a mournful cry that echoed through her.
Blind rage and bitter self-loathing followed, burning its way to the surface as tears stung her eyes.
Everyone she knew—Ivan, Tristan, Edgar, Algernon, Saria—gods, even herself—had drawn on the Sidhe’s souls to conjure ether.
Her stomach twisted, acid surging up as she turned and vomited, the contents of her stomach disappearing instantly into the Void’s dark, empty silence.
Had they known? Had they all known and simply… not cared? Was access toDraothworth the death of thousands of Sidhe, worth tearing their souls from their bodies and binding them into iron rings?
They were trapped.
Holy gods, the Sidhe were trapped—forced to give up every last sliver of their power, their very essence, until they dwindled to nothing. Until...
Her ears rang, a shrill, relentless pitch that drowned out everything else.
Her blood.
