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There was a flash of movement as Flynn came to stand before him. Then he plunged the syphen into Elias’ chest. A scream tore from Elias’ throat as sudden agony swelled in him, stealing his breath away.

Power flowed into the syphen, which seeped into Elias. At first, it felt like a burning sensation, as though hot oil had been spilt over open wounds.

He might have screamed again, but his ears were ringing and his heartbeat was too loud to be certain.

The power flowed into the fissure in his heart. And for the first time, that slip of power flowed inside.

“I’ve got you,” came Magnus’ voice.

Slowly, Elias managed to look up at where Flynn stood over him. Blinking through his tears, he watched as Flynn’s form was replaced by the familiar form of the sorcerer. Then there was a shimmering on the carpet where Arabella’s body had once been. One moment, his mate lay there, lifeless, and the next Flynn appeared, his eyes opening as he got to his feet.

They’d tricked him.

Magnus could cast illusion magic over himself and others—or their environment.

And Elias had fallen for it. Again.

Suddenly, Magnus' power flowed into Elias’ chest and swelled in his heart. Without willing it, Elias’ power flared to life, and his eyes burned.

“At long last, I’ve reached the source of your magic,” Magnus purred. “Now, I can make other erox who can wield essence. My army will be unstoppable.”

Before Elias could speak, shadows latched on to his mind. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness.

Magnus pulled back, lines forming between his brows. “What?—?”

His words faded as Elias slipped into endless black.

One moment, he was in Magnus’ tent, and the next he was in the strange landscape of shadows.

The dream, he realized. This was where he’d dreamed of Arabella. It was one of the few good dreams he had of her. Lately, so many dreams of her had been nightmares—prolonged visions of her dying or splitting him open.

How am I here again?

When he’d come here in the past, he’d slipped into unconsciousness when his body failed him after hours of torture. This time, it was like he’d been summoned.

This was no ordinary dream.

And he wasn’t alone.

Arabella knelt on the ground before him. Strands of her hair had come loose from her braid and her cheeks were flushed as though she’d just come from a fight. But the look in her eyes as she took in the sight of him had his heart dropping. It was both relief and horror, desire and despair.

He flinched away from her.

Too many times, Magnus had worn her face while torturing Elias. Now, the sight of her had fear slicing through him.

Glancing down at his body, he realized he was as naked as he’d been in Magnus’ tent. Blood no longer streamed from hiswrists, but he was covered in scarlet. And the syphen was still embedded in his chest.

Arabella moved in motions far quicker and more fluid than he’d ever seen. Standing before him, she wrapped her hands around the hilt and pulled. He watched, brows drawing together as she wrenched at the blade, veins bulging in her forehead. But it stayed firmly in his chest.

She’s trying to help me,he realized. But he’d seen this before plenty of times in his times of captivity. Magnus was probably just tricking him again.

Even with the distrust icing his chest, he wondered if she could tell it was his syphen. The one he’d given her before she’d fled his castle.

His thoughts fragmented as he once again saw the life drain from her eyes before her body fell onto the carpet. Something inside him had broken at that sight. Even as the memory replayed in his mind, he had to forcefully push out the countless images of when Magnus had worn her face and fed on him.

She’s alive, he thought. At least in this place, his mate was alive.

Despite everything that had happened to him, he allowed his broken heart to yearn for her. To enjoy the simple nearness of this phantom of her. He stretched a mental finger out to the bond in his chest and stroked it.