The second thread was finished between my fingers, dark red threaded with black. The puzzle of the past began to unravel,tangling with the present.I had to remember to move forward. I had to claim every death.
I’d been murdered over and over across centuries. Different methods, different eras, but always the same pattern. Always cut down before I could reach my full power.
Something deep inside me resonated in my core, in my marrow. Every fiber vibrated with recognition. A memory surfaced through murky water, floating just out of reach. As I grasped for it, it fled like a frightened fish. But my thread had caught its tail and dragged it back, forcing it to unfold?—
Temple ruins under a blood-red sky. Broken columns covered in ancient writing I couldn’t read, yet understood. Nero from another time was pinned by chains that glowed with binding magic, but he refused to kneel. His hair was shorter then, barely touching his chin. He wore warrior’s leathers, scarred and torn. But it was unmistakably him—the same fierce eyes, the same defiant posture, the same sensual lips.
“Choose another woman, and this ends now,” spoke a shrouded figure from the mist. Their form shifted—tall, then short, broad, then slender—never settling. “She is a lost cause in every lifetime. She dies, you suffer, the cycle repeats. You can even have Morrigan. She is powerful, loyal, and utterly lovely. She should be your perfect queen.”
“No!” Nero’s voice was raw, torn from deep within his chest.
“Why choose this eternal torment?” the figure continued, their voice musical and hypnotic, neither male nor female. “There is a way out. For her. For you. Break the bond. Everything will reset to how it should have been. She will be free of the curse. You will be free of this terrible fate and restored to being the formidable King of the Underworld.”
“I will never break my vow to her!” Nero roared. Then a wicked grin spread across his savage face. Exhausted, barely held upright by the chains, he was still devastatinglyhandsome. “Why are you so desperate to make me renounce her? You’re afraid, aren’t you? Terrified of what we would become together if we both survived.”
A marriage vow. Not just a relationship. Not just any love. But a sacred bond.
If Nero was Hades, then I was Persephone reborn. And we were married. Bound by vows that transcended death, since he was the God of Death.
If he broke his vow to his mate, their bond would shatter completely. That was what they wanted. What they had always wanted. To break us apart. But he had refused. Even in that vision, under torture, he had refused.
“Twenty-two…”
I pushed forward, my hands shaking so violently I could barely guide them. Blood dripped steadily from my palms, feeding the growing weave.
A violent gust swept through the courtyard, carrying the bitter scent of ancient misery. No one else seemed to notice but me. It coiled around my body, a response to the magic stirring awake inside me.
A third thread came to life between my bloody fingers, this one streaked with faint gold, and the third line of the song echoed in my mind.
In shadow’s keep where secrets sleep, the broken vow the Fates keep.
Another lash fell on Nero. I fought the dizziness and nausea that threatened to pull me under. Those lashes were meant for my back. This wasn’t about us breaking the rules. They wanted to kill me again, to restart the cycle.
Blood pooled at Nero’s feet. His back was a ruin of flesh and bone. I would not let them bleed him again. I would not allow one more strike to fall.
My hands moved faster than thought as I pushed into the fourth thread, a cryptic line bursting in my mind:
When death’s door opens once again, the final thread breaks or binds.
This final piece drew all three previous threads into itself. Strings emerged from the deepening shadows—threads of light and darkness, life and death, past and present, all woven by my blood.
And I unleashed them.
Chapter
Seven
Ravencrux
The Vow
“This obsession cost you everything, brother,” Kingsley said, his voice thick with malice. He muted it with his ocean power, so only I could hear. Another lash landed.
I refused to bow my head. I would wear any suffering for my mate like a badge of honor. This flogging was child’s play.
My mind drifted from the whistle of the whip, the sting tearing through flesh and muscle, from the monster wielding it as if he held power over me.
That prick was a fucking joke.
