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"Clever little pet you’ve chosen,"my father muses, the words slick with amusement.

"But it won’t save you."

A new pulse of pain lances through my nerve endings, sharper, crueler, meant to remind me that I belong to him.

But I grit my teeth.

I focus on the one fucking thing he doesn’t understand.

Me. And her.

I shove against the magic, the hold of his spellwork, forcing my body to move, inch by inch, breath by breath.

I can feel Nairafury in the atmosphere, the way her fingers tighten around the relic, the way she looks at me like she’s deciding whether to fight or run.

She shouldn’t be here.

She should never have been part of this.

I should have left her in the dark. She should keep loathing me.

Instead, she’s standing in front of me, her expression a storm, her voice sharp with rage.

"How the fuck do we stop this?"

I drag in a breath.

"Destroy it."

Her eyes widen, flicking between the relic in her hands and the way my body is visibly breaking.

"You’re sure?"

"No," I snarl. "But it’s either that or let my father have his way, and I’d rather fucking die."

Her grip tightens.

She raises the relic—and smashes it against the stone floor.

Magic erupts, an explosion of light and shadow, sound and silence.

The vault shatters around us, dust and debris cascading, the magic breaking apart stone and spellwork alike.

The curse screams.

My father’s magic howls.

Suddenly, the magic pulls away. A bit.

It doesn’t leave me. Not fully.

But it weakens.

I sag forward, hands braced against the rubble, breath heaving, skin damp with sweat.

When I lift my head, Naira is still standing there, panting, wide-eyed, furious.

Her mouth parts, as if she’s about to say something.