I stood abruptly, knocking several books to the floor. "The bond formed without my consent, without my conscious choice. The power transfer, the soul connection. It all just happened. Andthe power itself knew that wasn't enough. It was waiting for me to actively choose it. Choose him."
"But the texts clearly state..."
"The texts state that power without consent becomes poison," I interrupted, pointing to the passage. "But what if the poison isn't the power itself? What if it's the lack of choice? The bond was in limbo, waiting for me to either accept it fully or reject it, and that uncertainty was what made it unstable. I had to declare my acceptance and my love for him."
Paz stared at me, then at the book, then back at me. His expression shifted from confusion to dawning horror. "Oh dear."
"Exactly." I moved toward the door. "Where are the catacombs?"
"Miss Davenport, you cannot interrupt the ritual."
"I have to. I need to get to him. I need to tell him he doesn't have to do this. That there's another way."
"This is very dangerous." Paz looked torn, his loyalty to Malrik warring with what I was saying. "The ritual cannot be safely interrupted."
"Then I'll wait until he's finished and tell him he did it for nothing," I said, more harshly than I intended. "Or you can show me where they are."
For a long moment, Paz simply stared at me. Then, with a heavy sigh, he adjusted his spectacles and nodded.
"Follow me," he said. "But Miss Davenport, if you're wrong about this..."
"I'm not," I said with more confidence than I felt. "The power isn't trying to kill me. It's trying to force me to be honest about what I want."
"Are you sure this is what you want?"
I thought of Malrik. His infuriating arrogance, his unexpected vulnerability, the way he'd held me last night as if I was the most precious thing in the universe. The way he was right now tearing himself apart to keep me safe.
"Yes," I said simply. "I want him. All of this. The bond, the complications. I choose all of it. I choose him."
Paz studied my face for a long moment, then nodded. "Then let us hope we can reach him before it's too late."
He led me through the manor at a pace that was almost a run. Down hallways I'd never seen, through doors hidden behind tapestries, and finally to a narrow staircase that spiraled down into darkness.
"The catacombs are at the bottom," Paz said, pausing at the top of the stairs. "The ritual chamber is warded. I cannot enter. And Miss Davenport..." He hesitated. "If you do manage to stop him, he will likely be... displeased. He was quite certain this was the only solution."
"It will be okay," I said firmly.
I started down the stairs before Paz could argue further, before I could second-guess myself. The stone steps were worn smooth by centuries of use, and the air grew colder with each descending step. The patterns on my skin began to glow brighter, pulsing in rhythm with something I could feel pulling at me through our bond.
Malrik was down there. And he was in pain.
I quickened my pace, my bare feet silent on the ancient stone. The staircase seemed to go on forever, spiraling down into the unknown, into the place where its master was destroying himself piece by piece.
For me. To save me from a danger that might not even exist.
"I’m here," I whispered, not sure if he could sense my presence.
The patterns on my skin blazed brighter, illuminating the darkness around me, and I ran.
14
MALRIK
Pain. But not the kind I knew. This wasn't injury inflicted by an enemy. This was sacrifice. Every piece of power I tore away from myself was another chance for Charlie to survive.
The ritual chamber was filled with ancient symbols drawn in ash and blood, candles arranged in precise geometric patterns, and air thick with the scent of sulfur and myrrh. The stone floor beneath me was worn smooth by centuries of demonic rituals, and I could feel the pulse of accumulated power in the very walls.
I knelt in the center of the circle, hands braced against my thighs, and focused on the process of tearing away pieces of my essence.
