My heart splintered, and I shook my head, refusing to accept it.
As though the world were bending to the cruelty of fate, the clock struck midnight. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Finnegan stiffen.
“Tell me what to do,” I said.
His mouth parted, but before Reagan could answer, he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth so tightly I thought they might crack, as if something inside him was being ripped apart. A groan of agony left him.
It was torment. Torture.
“No,” I breathed, my hands reaching out for him.
I looked up, watching Caius’s eyes lock on Reagan. He was casting no ordinary charm—it was a torture hex.
“Stop it!” I shouted, my voice cracking under the strain.
His gaze never wavered.
I couldn’t understand why. Why Varian told him to do it. With no strength, no mana of my own, I was forced to watch as Reagan was sliced apart from the inside while the Scions stood like statues.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said, something warm and salty slipping into my mouth.
Gwinifer screamed threats at Caius. Finn thrashed like a wildcat. I couldn’t help him—but they could.
It was horrible to leave him, but I forced myself to my feet, my heart pounding as I turned to the battle mage. I couldn’t think. I acted on pure instinct, hurling myself at the Scion who held her, crashing to the ground with him, a force within me I had not known existed. The other mage hesitated, just long enough for Gwinifer to aim at Goyle, knocking him away from Finnegan with a pulse of her power. He was thrown against the wall.
Then she lunged for Caius.
Finnegan moved, his body fast like a panther as he went for Varian. I couldn’t see if he made it. The room swirled, and pain exploded through the back of my skull. Dexter, the Scion I had attacked, slammed my head into the floor.
My vision darkened, my ears buzzing with a piercing ring. Slowly, sound seeped back in. Dexter was no longer on me. When I managed to take in the room, dread sank through my stomach.
Gwin was on the ground. Goyle had somehow immobilised her again. And Finn—Finn had blood all over his nose.
A scream rose in my throat as I turned to Reagan again.
Blood dripped from his mouth, dark crimson stark against the ashen colour of his face, while his body strained through agonising breaths.
I crawled towards him, tears blurring my vision. His jaw was locked tight, his face drawn with pain, and my heart shattered with each passing moment.
Without a second thought, I hurled myself over Reagan’s body, pressing my chest to his. Desperation clawed through me. My hands trembled as I tried to shield him, even knowing I wasn’t large enough to cover him fully.
And it was pure distraction that did it.
Caius’s spell faltered. His concentration on the hex was broken after I climbed over Reagan, who slumped, finally released.
As the clock’s final chime echoed through the room, I felt a flicker of coldness, like the spell’s shadow brushing my skin, and braced for the pain. But it never came.
I moved to the floor, pulling Reagan’s limp body into my arms, pulling him to me as if the very action could hold him together. The blood from his mouth stained my hands.
His half-closed eyes blinked sluggishly, struggling to focus, but his mouth twitched. Blood stained his teeth, and my stomach churned at the sight.
“Caed,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “You’re going to be fine.”
Varian stood nearby, silent and still.
Reagan’s voice was so soft I almost didn’t hear him, but he murmured my name.
“Stay awake,” I said to him, my head curled over his, my fingers gripping his shoulders.
