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“I will sever the bonds,” Kildare muttered, his wings unleashing from his body. He eyed Kaos. “If there is a chance that this is temporary—”

“It’s not temporary.”

Everybody eyed Kross, now facing the window.

“Once you’re severed, there is no going back. The triune bond was a one-time weapon. It’s been executed and itaccomplished its purpose and now it is no longer, it is done and gone.”

“Do it now,” Kaos ordered. “The Darkness is already coming.”

Panicked, Reuban shot his powers into the perimeter and slammed into a dense wall of Dark power.

“Hurry,” Reuban urged. “He’s right.”

“Wait!” Josie cried, racing into the room, sobbing as she collided into Kildare.

His fire flared as he wrapped his wings around her tightly.

She held his face and kissed it. “I just want to say I love you and I will never stop loving you! I’m not afraid to do whatever we have to,” she gasped, pressing her head to his chest. “But you’re not leaving, right? Are you leaving, Kildare?”

“Little Saint,” he soothed, his voice thick and hot, hand glowing as he stroked her head. “Our fierce little warrior. You will never be alone. Our bond will be severed but never forgotten.”

“But will you be here?” she half shrieked.

“I will,” he whispered, the broken word suffocating Reuban because of what it meant. A sentencing. To be there, unable to forget. A living wound that never stopped bleeding.

She gasped and turned. “Kaos!”

Kildare released her and she raced to him, gluing herself to his white, rigid frame, now locked in torment. “Thank you for loving me,” she choked as his white hand cradled her head to him. “You’re not evil, you’re good! So good, just like our son! Thank you for our son!” The words wrenched from her chest, jagged and piercing.

Reuban felt the darkness creeping closer. “Krave,” he urged.

Krave hurried to her, moving the hair from her face. “Little Saint,” he urged, tugging at her arms glued to Kaos. “It’s time.”

Reuban’s chest ached at the eternal torment billowing from Kaos’s being. The ice-cold rage and burning hot love sucked the air from the room.

Kildare moved away from them as light grew within him. He braced his legs apart, both hands together before him, his wings spread wide, pulsing with light and red fire. A sword materialized, its hilt in his clenched hands, tip nearly reaching the ceiling.

The air was silent but strained, like it might tear if Kildare breathed wrong. The light within him flashed, as if a door to heaven had cracked open inside him, and Reuban realized in awe—it had.

Kildare closed his eyes, his face hardening as the light pulsed faster and began flooding out of him in strobed waves. He spoke in a heavenly tongue, “Awaken the Severance Flame.”

Reuban held Larena tightly as the blade pulsed once in answer, a darker hue of blood fire seeping from Kildare’s chest and lacing with the brilliance. Both coiled around him without touching the floor, a low, growing grumble now riding each beat, till the pressure slammed his ribs.

Kildare’s eyes opened, red and white fire filling them. “Sever the ties of flesh and spirit.”

His voice quaked with the command and the Severance Flame erupted from the sword and struck Kildare and Kaos in the chest.

The impact slammed Kaos to his knees and shoved Kildare back several feet. His teeth clenched, but neither King cried out or made a sound. The light detonated with a low whomp, rattling blood and vision then slammed back into Kildare’s chest.

The quiet room echoed with their ragged breaths, Kildare’s head and wings hanging, Kaos, a broken monument of grief too deep for anything human to touch.

Josie’s wail ripped through the silence, a broken sorrow for the ruin left in the room. Her beloved Kings. Both stripped from her soul.

Reuban knew — with the sick certainty of a man watching his own blood spill on the ground —that nothing sacred had survived the price they had just paid.

And all that remained was paying hell back for the cost.