Rune took Alora’s trembling hand, gently squeezing it. “We will find a way.”
Because this was not a chance he would take for granted.
To Sunnëva he said, “How do we conduct the ritual?”
She lifted her hands, and frost spilled outward as a new white parchment formed above her palms, blue light shaping into a new array, a circle that gleamed like silver fire.
“Blood. Shadow. Light. Woven together at the heart of the Rift.” Her voice carried, soft as falling snow, yet sharp enough to cut. “Your bond is the thread. Your souls are the barrier. You must stand as one and speak the vow.”
“And once we do?” he said.
Sunnëva’s golden eyes glinted. “Once done, the Rift will seal and the Netherworld Gate will open.”
He swallowed against the ache rising in his throat. “So, either we bind it and endure…”
“Or gamble your fate against the Devourer.” Sunnëva strode away. “Choose quickly. For the Blood Moon is near.”
“Wait,” Alora called. “If we imprison Vorak again, what of the curse?”
The Goddess of Death paused, looked back at her with a knowing smile. “You will break the Sleeping Curse when the time is right.”
Then she vanished into frost.
The mountain’s heart thrummed like a drumbeat as Rune and Alora entered the Gate chamber. His wings loomed at his back as they looked up the high arches, carved in stone older than the First Age, its glyphs faintly pulsing crimson with a heartbeat not its own.
The Harbingers stood waiting, cloaked and masked, their heads bowed as though the chamber itself were a temple. Even their shadows bent low, drawn toward the arch like worshipers.
Alora’s hand tightened in his. Rune glanced at her, at the pale glow of her hair in the gloom, at the steel in her eyes despite the dread that flickered there.
“The Gate had always been a symbol of my damnation,” Rune murmured, his voice low. “I never thought it would one day serve as our salvation. As a conduit to the Netherworld, it will be a foundation to ground the spell.”
Alora nodded, her dread thundering in the bond.
Can we endure it?she asked shakily, eyes meeting his.
Rune had asked himself that this morning, but now that he had been given hope, nothing would stop him.
Yes, for I refuse to accept any fate where I lose you.Rune brought her fingers to his lips, their bond vibrating.Our destiny is etched in the stars. It will never change, even if the stars fall from the sky.
Her eyes watered, but they shone with bravery. “Then we do this together.”
They knelt, shadows and light curling together in a storm around them. Looking up, he called on the will of the mountain and the ceiling opened, revealing the rift in the storming sky, rumbling with distant thunder.
He drew out the page with the new array Sunnëva left them with. Instead of a circle it was a seven-pointed star with symbols beyond his understanding. Below it, in the language of the Heavens, was the oath.
Alora glanced only once at the array then drew on her power and the ground blazed beneath their knees as it instantly formed, every perfect line glowing white.
Rune smiled faintly. “Are you willing to bind yourself to me?” he asked her once more.
She smiled back. “For eternity.”
Her reply settled down in the depths of his being.
Then Alora closed her eyes as she spoke the first line in covenant’s vow in the language of the Heavens:
Ani koshairet et nafshi b’nafshecha.
Rune did the same:
