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I stroke his hair back, drops of my blood and tears hitting his armor.

“This is not how we end,” I whisper. “We are eternal.”

Something dark and resolute moves through me.

We are eternal.

If we cannot have this life, then we shall have another.

Eislyn isn’t the only one capable of using extraordinary measures.

I am as well.

And whatever spell she’s placed on Memnon, I can make one stronger. It might not break the enchantment he’s under, but it can usurp it.

Some final fire stirs in me, rousing me.

I can do this, for him, for us.

Imust.

I just need a little help.

My grip on the sarcophagus tightens as I draw my magic together. There’s precious little power left in me and nothing my body wants to give up. But there are other sources of magic—in the air and, more notably, in the ground. The earth is already feasting on the trail of blood I’ve left. I can sense the magic beneath me clamoring for it.Hungry.

There are things that rule that magic, things that have whispered to me every so often. They might be willing to help me cast a spell of the magnitude I need…but they always exact a price.

I bow my head over the sarcophagus and draw the words out. “I call on any god who will answer: Memnon the Indomitable shall sleep the sleep of immortals. And he shall awakeonlyby my hand. I bind my soul to this vow. Even in death, I shall be beholden to it. Take what you must to make it so.”

For several moments, all I hear is the soft, reverent hiss of the torches. Just when I’m nearly sure the spell didn’t work, a low moan starts up in the distance, rattling the torches in their sconces. It builds into a howling wind that tears through the room, blowing my hair back. As it moves through me, I feel it pull away bits of my essence. The blood on my skin vanishes, as do the tears on my cheeks. Something dark and hungry slipsinsideme through my wounds, and I gasp at the insidious intrusion.

Once this essence is in me, it begins to spread. I choke on my own breath, my hand going to my abdomen. Whatever god answered my plea, it’s named its price. I can feel it feasting on what’s left of my life.

The unearthly wind circles the room several times, then sweeps out, gone just as quickly as it came. The pain eating me from the inside out, however, is still there.

I stagger, struggling to catch my breath. I lean against the sarcophagus, my eyes drawn back to Memnon.

Always Memnon.

Beautiful, monstrous Memnon.

I touch his cheek, my fingers slipping a little. “We will get another life. A better one,” I promise.

I lean into the sarcophagus, ignoring the way my body screams in protest, and press a kiss to his lips. They’re still warm.

I pull away, my mouth lingering right above his. “I will find you again, my king. I am eternally yours.”

I can feel hot tears slipping from my eyes as I straighten. All I want is to crawl inside that coffin and spend my last few moments with him. It would be a good place to die.

Unfortunately, if I mean to see this through, I can’t do that.

I lift a trembling hand, my breath ragged as I force my reluctant magic to lift the coffin lid into the air. I shift it over the sarcophagus and gently lay it down.

Another tear drips, and I can feel my lower lip quivering with sadness and exhaustion. My tired eyes rest on the inscription carved into the top.

For the love of your gods, beware of me.

Memnon the Cursed