“The death of a dream,” Selene said.
He brought the knife to his chest and cut above his heart. He drew sigils in the blood, shapes that almost looked like music. “Whose dream, Selene?”
“Mine.” She waited for him to take the paper. “I don’t need L’Opéra du Magician anymore. My dream has changed. All is new.”
“Damn it, Selene.” He pushed his dark hair from his eyes. Smearing blood on his face. “Youare the death of a dream. Not that paper. What I asked for, you have brought inside yourself.”
The realization settled over Selene. The shadows around her rippled, pressing against the circle of light Dante cast with his blood. “But that means—”
“The magic will take you.” The ghost carved the knife into his abdomen. “I am doing all I can to keep it at bay. But I cannot stop it.”
“What can I do?” she cried. Desperate. She’d found her father again. She’d promised she’d be back. She’d found the ghost’s name and a way to free him.
And now, all was lost.
“Nothing,” the ghost said. The shadows crawled from his skin. There was not enough blood in his body to keep the darkness at bay. He stopped, a light going on in his eyes. “I can’t break this magic.”
“I don’t understand how this happened.”
“It was always supposed to be this way,” Dante said. “I didn’t know it, but the magic did. The things you brought were pieces. But you were always the final piece, Selene. The magic needs someone. You’re meant to take my place.”
Selene inhaled sharply. Her throat was thick with emotion. “All this time you’ve been helping me. You were going to betray me.”
“I didn’t mean it—or maybe I did. I don’t know. There’s so much of me lost. But I don’t mean it now. I know you, Selene. I could never hurt you.” He kept cutting. More blood, more shadow. It wouldn’t be enough.
She shouldn’t believe him, but she did.
“What do we do now?”
He searched the space between them, like there could be anything there but the dark. His eyes lit with something. But it didn’t matter. Selene could feel the pull of the shadows like a rip current, meant to drag her into the dark.
Dante started to sing. The feather, the seed, the shell, the watch, all pulled from the inky walls of the prison. His voice and blood carried them aloft. He made one final cut, so deep Selene was sure she could see bone. He held out the knife. The feather shifted to shadow, folding into the hilt. The seed burst into bloom, tendrils of new life shimmering into darkness and wrapping up the blade. The nautilus shell nestled into the pommel. The nightingale broke free from the watch, spreading its wings and taking its place at the cross guard. It was breathtaking, like nothing Selene had ever seen before.
Still, she wished it wasn’t the last thing she would behold.
There was no escape, no hope. This was the end. She’d seen the magic and knew what it could do. Selene held her breath and looked at Dante’s beautiful face. At least she wouldn’t die alone.
“When you get out,” Selene said. “Find my father. Heal him, I know you can. Tell him I love him and that it’s okay.”
The darkness moved in closer, swallowing the light.
“Not like this.” Dante stepped toward her, closer than he’d ever allowed. Selene could feel the heat of him.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
He took her face in his hands and kissed her.
Selene had not dared to dream of a moment like this, of the revelation of his touch. It lit her up like a thousand little fires. This was true magic. His lips were soft, his teeth sharp beneath. She sighed into him. Breathing the wintergreen scent of him, holding on to this final thing. A kiss, a kiss at last. It unfolded in her like a piece of music. A shared symphony between them.
The shadows swirled around them, magic and misery and not enough light. Closer and closer, until Selene was sure they would take her. But they surrounded Dante like a shroud, greedy and impetuous, ready to take him, instead.
He pressed her leather sheaf into her hand. “You are the magic and you are the music, Selene. Be it all.”
Inky shadows rose between them in gossamer tendrils.
And then she was torn from him.
Cast out into the dark.
