Where I’d been meant to stay.
I reached without thinking, testing the limits of my new bonds. Trying for the surface… where I might breach through to find a lungful of crisp, light air that wasn’t bogged down by the stench of failure. Of guilt.
In an instant, I was surrounded in light. Scalding attention from a single, burning corona that did not blink but managed to scowl as I began to burn even while I drowned.
The attention of a leviathan—it engulfed me.
Completely.
And with a sneer, I was flung back into the depths with a contemptuous flick—a casual lash of power I was forbidden to taste, even though it had once been mine. Found wanting by a better monster, I was banished into a bottomless pit that held a gravity all its own.
Made to watch the chasm between us grow, for the deeper I fell, the higher he soared. Floating, until all I could see was shimmering, gleaming white that grew more brilliant with each dragging moment I wallowed in darkness.
A wall.
But this one wasn’t protection against elite attackers.
No, it was a prison.
Protection forthem.
Againstme.
Crafted by an expert, it was fed by my own life force. Impenetrable, affording him full, easy access to my power, without the risk of infection from all that I was. A wall meant to blind me to the work he was doing beyond it. Tinkering with power I didn’t understand, no matter that it had been mine.
Still, I tried.
Tried to claw my way up, toward freedom.
All I managed was a twitch. A dull lurch of limbs hidden beneath sheets that reeked ofhim.
My lids were gummy.
Heavy and crusted closed.
And though I tried to scream as my wings were clipped back to the root, a hoarse groan was all that escaped my lips.
“Sleep.”
It was the only word I knew. The only one I understood, for it wasn’t an offer.
It was a command that shook my bones. Dragging at my will with a nagging, silent reminder of what I’d promised to give in exchange for this ocean of numb.
Some part of me refused. Knew to hate this all-consuming cold for the lie it really was.
The part that ached for the hurt and couldn’t be caged—not entirely.
Not by a wall with no ceiling.
And then something cool landed across my brow. A cold compress paired with a gentle touch and soothing hands. The touch of a healer. Hushed words and whispered sentiment that held no meaning and brought no comfort…
… because that touch was absent any spark of delicate priestess energy.
Because Sasha was dead.
An anguished sob clawed through my vocal cords, tearing blisters that left me choking on blood as I gathered a scream that might be capable of describing my fury. My pain and sorrow.
The bone crushing guilt.
