The voice that leaves me is mine. Entirely mine. Just fuller. “You tried to tear it,” I say to her.
The shadows ripple behind me, and claws grow from my hands.
I smile. My claws. Darker. Heavier. Older, like they remember what they once were and are now more. Like muscles I’ve just remembered how to use.
Helena’s lip curls. She lunges, fingers clawing for the last filament still tethered faintly to Eryx’s chest.
The room answers before I do.
The night itself responds, pulling into me—it’s a rush, like a blast of cold air. Then it shoots out, grabs Helena—curling around her wrists and holding her in midair.
She gasps.
Helena struggles against the shadows, then goes still. Her eyes lock on mine.
"You don't understand," she says, and for the first time her voice isn't sharp. It's pleading. "I loved him. Eryx's father. I was there when no one else was. When he was alone. When he struggled with the burden of his magic.”
Her voice cracks. "I understood the darkness. And what did I get? Nothing. He wouldn't share it. Wouldn't give me even a fraction.”
She looks at Eryx, and something raw flickers across her face. "The nightmares were consuming him. I could have carried half the magic, just like you’re doing now. But he refused. Said I couldn't handle it. So I took what should have been freely given." Her eyes burn with conviction. "I didn't murder him. I freed him.”
The shadows tighten around her wrists.
"You think you're different?" she hisses at me. "You're doing exactly what I wanted to do—share the burden, anchor the darkness. The only difference is heletyou.” Her voice breaks. "Why was I never chosen?"
Silence falls. I understand now. Not the murder. Not the stalking. She was denied what she believed was rightfully hers.
"You're right," I say quietly. "He should have let you help. But taking without consent is stealing. And when you killed him, you didn't free him. You destroyed any chance of ever being chosen."
“It’s supposed to be mine,” she spits.
“No,” I say. The darkness coils in agreement inside me. “It isn’t.”
Her magic flares in a desperate burst, striking the mirrors. Glass fractures and rains down in glittering shards. The ceiling groans.
But the darkness absorbs the force like deep water swallowing a stone. She pulls against the shadows. They don’t tighten. They simply refuse.
For the first time since all of this began, Helena looks small.
“You don’t understand what you’ve taken,” she hisses.
“I didn’t take anything,” I reply. “I accepted.”
That word lands like a hammer. Her expression twists—rage, fear, humiliation tangled together.
The void stirs, tightening around her wrists and closing around her body. I step toward her. “Hear this,” I say, my voice deep and echoing, “you will leave. You will not come back. Because if you do, you won’t survive it. I’m giving you mercy where you’ve shown none.”
“No.”
I look back and there’s Eryx. Tall and handsome. Tired. Dark circles under his eyes, but the magic is in him. It hums in time with me.
I feel every part of him—anger, fear, worry. Relief.
And his beautiful black wings are back, extended behind him.
“You have to pay for every crime you’ve committed against me and my family.”
His gaze flicks to me for an instant.
