Power snaps between us. Crackles. Him and me. It's just us. Together. Tied to one another like we were before, but different. More. Deeper.
I don't speak. Neither does he. But we move as one.
My claws extend—gold and black braided together. His wings flare wide, shadows pooling at their edges. The darkness flows between us like a current finding its path.
Helena feels it. Her eyes dart between us, and for the first time I see fear crack through her confidence.
"No—"
The shadows surge.
Mine and his, woven together, inseparable. They don't just wrap around her—they dig in. Searching. Finding every stolen fragment of power she's hoarded, every piece of magic she's torn from others.
Helena thrashes. Her magic flares—desperate, wild—trying to burn through the darkness. But it's like fighting the ocean. The more she struggles, the deeper it pulls.
"Stop!" She claws at the shadows, but they don't flinch.
I feel it then—the tug of her power unraveling. It's not gentle. It tears. Every thread of stolen magic rips free, and I feel each one like a plucked nerve.
Eryx steps beside me. His hand finds mine, our fingers threading together.
The bond between us thrums. His magic amplifies mine. Mine steadies his. We pull together—not brutal, not cruel but inevitable.
Helena screams. It's raw. Guttural. The sound of someone losing everything they built on a lie.
Her body convulses as the magic drains. Her skin pales. Her hands shake. The shadows don't stop until there's nothing left to take.
When the darkness finally recedes, Helena collapses.
She lies on the ground, a shriveled, shrunken husk of what she was.
Not dead.
Just powerless—like she made me and Eryx feel every time she invaded our home.
Our home, Nightmare murmurs.
Silence falls on the room.
The mirrors tremble once more and then settle. The storm above quiets to a low rumble.
Eryx and I stare at one another for a beat. And then we fall on each other, both of our bodies heavy. Both of us trying to keep each other upright.
“Eryx.”
He wraps his hands around my head. “Chelsea.”
My hand presses to his chest. The filament of darkness inside him pulses in rhythm with the one beneath my ribs.
Not dominant. Not consuming. Connected.
He inhales sharply and steps back. For a moment his gaze is unfocused—lost in whatever void he just crawled back from.
He frowns, confused. Then his eyes widen. His breath catches. He sees it—what I’ve done. What we’ve become.
“You…” His voice is raw.
I swallow. “Still here. Still sparkly.”
