I press my palm to the door. “Eryx.”
No answer.
I pound on the door. “Stop this. Please!”
Through the thick wooden door I hear him chanting, something low, ancient. And on the edges of the door, I see power leaking through. It’s dark, inky black, with just a touch of gold.
I gasp and reach for it. My fingers brush it, and it shrinks away, like a snail tucking its head back into its shell.
There won’t be any more gold roses after this. The thing that proved we were meant for each other. Gone. Just like the claws. Just like the fierce feeling.
Just like everything that made memore.
“Eryx, please!”
But his chanting intensifies, and the pull of his magic ignites inside me. The power coils like Eryx is pulling it like a thread.
A low hum takes over my body. It grows louder and the grip on my power tightens.
My breath staggers.
The magic leaking from the door darkens. His nightmare power devours the gold.
His grip on my power grows even tighter. I fall to my knees as the shadows around me grow, deepen, become vicious.
I feel Eryx on the other side—sad, hopeless.
Devastated.
He knows there won’t be any more roses.
He feels it, too.
The thread inside me stretches farther than it should. It burns. I grind my teeth until my jaw aches.
My fingers tighten on the door. “Eryx.”
My voice breaks.
For a heartbeat the pull falters. He’s hesitating.
“Please,” I whisper.
And then he pulls harder.
The burn moves up my stomach into my arms, down my legs.
When it's almost unbearable, the thread snaps.
Not splits.Snaps.
I feel it in my soul—the moment the bond breaks. The gold and black magic shatters into a thousand pieces, splintering into the air like dying stars. And I feel everything drain out of me.
The claws.
The power.
The connection to Eryx.
