“The ritual needs to complete without interruption. That’s all.”
“Ava…”
“Please.” She met Mia’s eyes. “Trust me.”
Mia’s resistance broke. She nodded once, gripping the paper tighter.
Ava closed her eyes. Drew a breath. Let it out slowly.
The words rose from somewhere deep, Samael’s gift, burned into her memory. They scraped against her teeth. Consonants clicking in patterns that predated human speech. Sounds that human throats weren’t designed to make.
“Marchosias, Duke of Contracts, Lord of the Wailing Court:”
The temperature dropped. Mia made a small sound but didn’t stop counting.
“I invoke the Right of Substitution. A willing soul in exchange for those already bound.”
The chalk lines began to glow. Faint at first, then brighter. Golden light bleeding upward like flames frozen in place. The light seared through her closed eyelids. Ava pressed her palms against her face.
“The bloodline of Feng, nine generations forward, nine generations back:”
The bond with Victor flared. She felt him notice from across the city—felt his attention snap toward her like a compass finding north. Felt his confusion turn to alarm, his alarm turn to panic.
He was coming. She had to finish before he arrived.
She spoke faster.
“I take their place.”
Mia started reading, her voice shaking: “By witness and word, by blood and breath, let the binding transfer:”
“I, Ava Feng, offer myself in substitution:”
The light blazed brighter. The ritual was fighting her, or she was fighting it. The words wanted to come faster, but her throat was closing, her body recognizing what her mind had decided to ignore.
This was going to hurt.
“For the souls of my ancestors and descendants.”
“From the bound to the willing.” Mia’s voice cracked on the last word.
“Freely given.”
Pain lanced through her chest. Not the mark, something deeper. Something being torn loose from the place where it had always lived.
“Freely taken.”
“Sealed and witnessed.”
“Now and forever.”
The world went white.
Then the chains came.
They didn’t materialize gradually. They erupted from the light, golden metal condensing from nothing, wrapping around her wrists, her ankles, her throat. The first touch was cold. The second was agony.
She heard herself scream.
