His scream changes pitch, rising so high that Ivy's wings actually falter, sending her dropping several inches before she recovers. A glass vial on a nearby shelf cracks from the vibration alone.
"Sweet mercy," she whispers, her face ashen. "I didn't know a human throat could make that sound."
"It can't," Emmett replies grimly. "Not without...assistance."
"You see," I explain to my victim, circling him as he writhes in my shadows' grip, "last time was so rushed. No finesse. No opportunity to truly savor your departure from this realm."
I make a simple gesture, and my shadows begin to coalesce inside his wounds, forming tiny needles that pierce nerve endings.
"Do you remember how it felt when my shadows tore through you from the inside? Let me refresh your memory."
The shadows inside him shift, recreating the exact pattern of his first death. His body convulses violently, a new scream tearing from him that doesn't sound human anymore. The cottage's remaining windows shatter outward.
Ivy actually retches, turning away to compose herself. Emmett's hand moves unconsciously to his sword hilt, knuckles white with tension.
"Is this really necessary?" Emmett asks quietly, a question he would never normally dare.
"Too much? Let's try again. Perhaps with more...attention to detail."
I repeat the process, my shadows pulsing through his body in waves, each one bringing a new variation on his original death. Through it all, I keep him conscious.
His third scream modulates between frequencies that make my teeth ache and ones so low they vibrate in my chest.
"I've heard death cries of a thousand species across five realms," Ivy says, her voice shaking, "and nothing—nothing—has ever sounded like that."
"Lord Malakai has unique methods," Emmett manages.
"That's one word for it," Ivy mutters, then winces as another scream tears through the air.
The sound is so raw that even Seraphina—who has more reason than anyone to want Asher to suffer—covers her ears, tears streaming down her face.
"Fun fact," I announce, "shadow magic can trap a consciousness in the exact moment of its most extreme suffering. Like capturing a scream in amber. Eternal. Preserved."
"Sweet merciful twilight," Ivy whispers, her healing magic faltering momentarily.
"That's..." Emmett starts, then swallows, "...not a commonly known application of shadow techniques."
"I've always been an innovator. You'll be experiencing this particular death sensation for eternity. Consider it my wedding gift to you."
"K-kill me," he finally gasps. "Please..."
"Since you asked so nicely. But death isn't what you think it is. Not anymore."
I drive shadow needles into what's left of his chest, seeking not Cade's life force, but the foreign presence that invades it. His body convulses one final time as golden light begins to pour from the wounds. Beneath the golden radiance of Asher's departing soul, I sense something else—a flicker of Cade's own consciousness, already fading. The possession burns through his mind like acid through silk. Even if I want to save him, nothing remains to preserve.
"Asher's soul," I explain. "Separate from Cade's body. Pure consciousness without its stolen vessel."
The golden light pours from every remaining orifice—eyes, nose, ears, mouth—coalescing into a translucent form that hovers above the ruined body. I can see Asher's features clearly now, his expression locked in a silent scream.
From my belt, I withdraw a special crystal vial—one I crafted centuries ago for a purpose I never thought I'd use. The crystal is black at its core but clear at its edges, designed to hold consciousness itself.
"Your eternal home," I tell the hovering soul as my shadows funnel it into the vial. "From this prison, you'll witness everything while affecting nothing. Every moment Seraphina spends with me. Every touch, every pleasure, every surrender."
The soul fights against the confinement, making the vial glow and pulse with desperate energy. But the crystal holds, and soon the light is fully contained, the vial sealed with shadow magic that will never break.
"Inside, you'll experience your death on an endless loop. The sensation of being torn apart will be your only companion for eternity. But don't worry—I'll make sure you're present for all the important moments between me and my Omega mate."
"He's bottled Asher's soul," Ivy explains to Seraphina, her voice caught between horror and reluctant admiration. "Like a particularly vengeful perfumer."
