Amara stepped outside.
She stood in the dark, framed by the glow of an oil lantern cupped in her hand. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, a dark cascade glinting with the reflection of flame. Her eyes searched the night, wide and uncertain, until they found me.
“Lazarus!”
Her voice cracked—half cry, half prayer—but it was joy that filled it, raw and trembling. The oil lantern fell from her hand, the flame sputtering in the dust before dying. She ran into the yard, hair streaming behind her, and I was already moving. My feet struck the earth hard, my pulse thrumming. I needed to reach her, to feel her warmth, to believe she was still real.
For one heartbeat, everything felt almost right.
Then a shape tore out of the dark.
A hand caught her wrist, yanking her back. The bronze glint of a blade flashed beneath the moon—and pressed against her throat. A thin line of blood bloomed, as dark as wine.
And Salvatore stepped into the light.
His eyes burned with fever—not human, not sane—the fire of the shadows crawling just beneath his skin. His smile was wrong, a crack in something already broken.
My chest caved. “Salvatore…” My voice faltered. “Let her go.”
He pressed the knife harder. Amara gasped, her whole body shaking, and he drew her closer, his arm tightening around her as if she were nothing but a lure to drag me in.
“No,” he said, voice low and guttural with fury. “It’s because of her, Lazarus. Don’t you see? Because of her, you never loved me. Because of her, you never looked at me the way you should have. She’s poisoned everything.”
“Please,” Amara whispered, her voice small, strangled. Her eyes met mine—wide, wet, pleading—and I wanted to tear the world apart to reach her.
I stepped forward, the shadows thrashing at my heels, begging to be released. I raised my hands in surrender. “Don’t do this, Salvatore. This isn’t you. It’s the shadows twisting you, chaining you. Fight it. You’re stronger than this. You can still stop.”
He laughed—hollow, vicious—the sound scraping through me like a rusted blade. “Stronger?” His grin widened, teeth catching the moonlight. “No, Lazarus. This is me. This has always been me. And you?—”
He shoved the blade closer until Amara whimpered again. “You’ll finally see it.”
Tears streaked her cheeks. The moonlight caught them as they fell.
“I had to rid you of everyone who ever gave you love,” Salvatore hissed, voice shaking with madness. “I killed your mother first. And now…” He pressed his cheek against Amara’s hair, inhaling her scent like a predator tasting blood. “…now it’s her turn. Then you’ll understand. You’ll feel what I’ve felt my whole life.”
His words tore through me like flame through dry grass.
“I never felt love, Lazarus,” he roared, the words cracking into something feral. “Never! And neither will you. You’ll never know peace, never know joy. You’ll choke on emptiness until the day you die. You’ll rot the way I have!”
The shadows around him screamed. They burst from his skin like black serpents, writhing in the air, feeding on his hatred, his despair. His markings blazed bright across his arms, chains of living ink twisting in ecstasy.
Amara sobbed in his hold, her body shaking, her eyes locked on mine. Her lips moved—no sound, no air—but I knew the word.
Please.
It wasn’t just a plea. It was her last prayer, and the moment it left her mouth, I felt Severen’s curse coil tight around my ribs, strangling me from within.
“Salvatore…” My voice broke. “If you hurt her, there will be nothing left of me. Maybe that’s what you want. Maybe you think that will make us the same. But I will never love you. I will never give you what you crave.”
For a heartbeat, something flickered in his eyes—grief, loneliness, a flash of the boy he once was—and then it was gone. His teeth bared, his grin stretching into madness. The blade slid deeper, carving a line of red across her skin.
“Then this is where I kill her,” he whispered, “forever.”
Before I could move, before I could even breathe, the knife swept across her throat.
Amara’s eyes widened. Her mouth parted as if to speak my name, but only blood came, dark and hot, spilling down her neck, soaking her hands. The lantern light caught her face for a single instant, and then it vanished, the flame dying as she did.
She crumpled in his arms.
