The mist seems to touch everything.Blureverything.
I squint harder, trying to see through the haze to my brother, wondering if maybe, actually, I’m…
Dying.
If I think about my situation for more than a heartbeat, it’s incredible that I’ve remained alive at all.
When creatures of magic die, their power is collected by one of the four keepers of magic, whose task it is to tether their energy so it doesn’t contaminate the world, which happened in ancient times. There are four keepers, one for each kind of magic: light magic, dark magic, old magic, and elemental magic.
My magic should be collected by the keeper of dark magic, except that I freed him from the realm within which he was caged. Given that, I’m actually not sure what will happen to my magic now.
Of course, my soul is another matter and, as a dark creature, there’s only one place it’s headed.
A smile grows on my face because I like the idea that, if I’m dying right now, my untethered energy might spill out across this room, wrap around my father, and drag him to hell with me.
But my body is still moving, and I’m going to keep moving until my body gives up, even if my mind is already gone.
I manage another hop before the ribbons of mist around me begin to swirl in a growing tornado that quickly envelops me. The rushing air plucks me up off the floor, although it doesn’ttoss me around. Rather, it’s as if I’m being held upright in the quiet center of an equally silent storm.
I can’t hear a thing now.
I can barely see the brightness of my father’s magic across the room—a power that a dark angel like himself shouldn’t be able to summon.
The pain in my broken leg eases. It seems to be cushioned on the air beneath me and, oh, dark saints, it’s a relief.
Still, I struggle against the growing mist, trying once more to get to my brother, grunting with effort, spitting blood in the process.
The mist won’t let me go.
My forehead creases when it quickly expands, stretching far into the distance in front of me—much farther than the walls.
Two silhouettes form within it, both running toward me at a startling pace.
One of the figures is tall and distinctly male with broad shoulders and a heavily muscled physique.
The other is feline. A big cat.
My eyes widen and my heart leaps.
My sob is snatched from my mouth by the increasingly intense rush of air around me. “Diavolo.”
Devil.
The one with my heart. My keeper.
He’s here.
He storms into view, his features crystal clear despite my one-eyed vision. He can change his appearance at will, and now he’s wearing his most muscular form. His eyes are the darkest brown, his jaw is sharp, and his cheekbones are high. His skin is light brown and his lips are as beautiful as a god’s.
He wears a crown-shaped ring on his left hand. It’s an object of immense power. When I first met him, he wore that crown around his eyes, his sight constrained by it.
His crown contains all of the dark magic he’s collected over thousands of years from dark magic creatures who died: the power of dark shifters, warlocks, witches, fae, elves, vampires, goblins, trolls, sirens, and every other kind of dark creature that ever walked this Earth. So much power. But the rules of his creation meant he couldn’t use it for his own benefit.
Until I freed him.
We are both escapees from the cages we were placed in.
Even though his brown-eyed form is one of his most intimidating, it’s also his calmest, most confident persona.
