“Mortifer—” One crammed inside of his mouth, its cotton-like body dry on his tongue.
He channeled his magic through his pores. Fire doused across his skin as a shield, burning them off. They smothered the flames, purged down his neck, arms, legs.
His divine power flared, an instinct to teleport. However, the action clamped against the demand of the binding potion, linking him to Cassian.
As far as he could go, Marina had her dark army.
He jerked and flailed his limbs, smashed his teeth together and ground the shadow in his mouth to a pulp. The acrylic tastegagged him, but he strained the muscles in his throat to swallow it. It stuck to his tonsils, heaving up back into his mouth. His eyes watered.
The shadows on his arms and legs hung like sap, forcing his hands behind his back and coiling them together at the wrist.
Before him, the night rippled like a parted sea, and Marina stalked towards him.
Finnian’s pulse spiked as he eyed the syringe in her grasp.
“Finnian!” Cassian roared, his voice booming and loud—an assurance Finnian would hear him, in the case his brain had not fully adjusted to having his hearing aid back in yet.
The thought pricked in Finnian’s chest.
He didn’t bother looking away from Marina. In the veil of her night, he knew he would not be able to see Cassian from where they stood.
He wished he had let Cassian hold him a bit longer earlier. Savored his warm embrace. Finnian should’ve kissed him. It had been so long since he’d felt Cassian’s lips on his own.
He regretted not telling Cassian that he loved him, that he was sorry for the suffering his plan had caused.
“Time’s up.” Marina was only a few strides away. Her dark eyes narrowed on him, depraved and hollow. A barren wasteland. “Not even Father can save you now.”
The breath froze in Finnian’s lungs as he remembered Cassian’s words.
All you need to do is call out his name.
“No!” It came out as an indecipherable shout due to the shadow residing in his mouth.
Marina cocked her arm back and plunged the needle toward his heart.
Finnian flinched.
A gentle gust swept through his hair.
Everything silenced.
Finnian’s frantic pulse echoed in his ear.
A lovely floral fragrance touched his nose—and it felt as if his heart had stopped completely.
“Hello, my darling.”
Gooseflesh spread down Finnian’s arms at the sound of his father’s mellow voice.
Chest rising and falling sharply, Finnian peeled his eyes open to see his father’s backside, cloaked in a velvet green robe, staring back at him, the same one he could recall fidgeting with the hem of as a child.
Marina choked out a sound, a horrid gasp and sob. “F-father?”
She staggered backwards, blinking up at their father in a rapid procession. Mouth agape, tears welling in her eyes. Her arm sat inclined with the syringe pasted in her grip—half-empty.
A heavy chill froze over Finnian’s core.
No, no, no.
