Page 28

Lara.

The room feels different now.

Not because the magic has faded—because it hasn’t, not fully. The walls still hum with residual energy, the runes carved deep into the stone still flicker with the last vestiges of power. But the weight of it, the unbearable pressure, the darkness pressing in from all sides—it's gone.

I don't realize I'm crying until I taste salt on my lips.

I can't seem to move. Can't seem to breathe. The entire world has shrunk to the girl in the chair, bound by iron and magic, her wrists raw where the restraints held her in place.

My sister.

I take a step forward on unsteady legs, my limbs trembling, exhaustion curling into my bones, heavier than anything I have ever carried before. The weight of this moment presses into my chest, an unbearable thing, making it nearly impossible to inhale.

I want to say her name, but I don’t have the breath to do it.

Lara is slumped forward, her body utterly still, her dark hair spilling over her face in tangled waves, still sweat-stricken. And for a horrible, gut-wrenching second, I think I’ve failed. That the magic burned through her, consumed what was left, leaving nothing behind.

Then—a breath. And another.

Another.

A slow, shuddering inhale, deep and uneven, her chest rising in the dim light. Her fingers twitch against the arms of the chair, nails scraping against the iron as though testing if she is still here, still alive, still something more than the thing Solstice twisted her into.

And then, she moves.

It’s not sudden. Not dramatic. Just a slow, aching tilt of her head, strands of dark hair falling away from her face as she blinks open her eyes.

The breath in my throat locks.

Because they’re not black anymore.

Not void. Not empty.

Lara’s eyes—my sister’s eyes—are staring back at me.

I let out something between a sob and a breathless whisper, my hands trembling as I take another step closer. My pulse is a frantic, stuttering thing beneath my skin, my magic stirring weakly inside of me, sensing the shift, sensing the change.

She’s here.

She’s really here.

“Lara,” I whisper, my voice breaking, and the moment her name leaves my lips, something in her face crumbles. Her body shudders, a sharp, gasping inhale ripping from her throat, her fingers clutching at the armrests like she doesn’t know how to ground herself, like she isn’t sure if she’s real. Her cracked lips part, but no words come out, just a soft, pained sound, something fragile and lost and human.

It is the most beautiful thing I’ve heard in my entire life.

I fall to my knees before her, unable to stand any longer, my hands hovering, hesitant, afraid that if I touch her, if I reach for her, she will vanish like a wisp of smoke.

“Lara,” I whisper again, my throat tight, my voice trembling. “Do you… do you know me?”

She lifts her head fully, eyes glassy and unfocused, and for a single, terrible moment, I think she doesn’t. I think this was all for nothing, that I was too late, that?—

Her lips tremble. Her brow creases. And then?—

A whisper, soft and fragile, barely more than a breath:

“Sylvie.”

I choke on my own sob as tears stream down my cheeks and I continue to search her face. I’m wailing now, the sound echoing throughout the chamber, the tears creating an ocean beneath me.

I reach for her before I can stop myself, my hands gripping her shoulders, her skin fever-warm beneath my touch. She flinches, but only slightly, only for a second, and then, despite the restraints, she latches her fingers around my arms, the bindings tugging and biting into her, but it’s as if she doesn’t notice. She grips me just as desperately as I’m holding onto her, her fingers digging into my arms— holding on, holding on, holding on.

I can feel her shaking. The way her body trembles against mine, the way her breath comes in ragged, uneven gasps, like she is learning how to exist again.

“I’m here,” I whisper into her hair, my arms tightening around her. “I’m here, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Lara.” My entire body shudders as she grips me, and my chest heaves, the pain and pressure eradicating itself from my core.

She lets out a broken, gasping sound that matches my own as she buries her face in my shoulder, fingers clutching my shirt like if she lets go, she’ll be lost again. Like if we separate, one of us will vanish into the air and we won’t get a do-over.

Despite everything, despite the weight of it all, for the first time in what feels like eternity…I breathe.

I don’t know how long we stay like that, clinging to each other, my tears soaking into her hair, her breath hot against my neck. I don’t care.

I would stay here forever if she needed me to.

But then?—

She pulls back. Just enough to look at me, to truly see me, and there is something broken in her gaze, something lost and uncertain.

“I—” Her voice is hoarse, raw, like she hasn’t used it in months. She swallows hard, shaking her head. “I don’t… I don’t remember all of it. I don’t…” She exhales shakily, her expression crumpling. “Sylvie, I don’t know who I am anymore.” She catches herself and thinks better of it, adding, “I mean, I know who I am. I know. I just…”

I press my forehead to hers, my own breath unsteady.

“You’re my sister,” I murmur. “You are my sister and you’re here and for right now, that’s enough.”

She exhales, long and slow, and I feel it when her body finally sags against me, when the fight in her melts away into exhaustion.

Lucian’s presence is there before I even lift my head.

He kneels beside me, his palm pressing gently against my back, grounding me, solid and there. His voice is soft when he speaks.

“I don’t want to pull you away from her, love. But soon, she needs to rest.”

I nod, my hands still gripping Lara’s. “I know.”

Nicole and Rebecca are already moving, removing the bindings and easing Lara from the chair, their hands careful, their magic pressing gently against her skin to steady her, to support her.

Lara doesn’t resist.

She just leans into them, her strength gone, her limbs heavy with exhaustion.

I rise unsteadily, my body screaming at me to stop, but Lucian is there, always there, his arm slipping around my waist before I can stumble, steadying me. I lean into him, pressing my face into his shoulder for half a second, just breathing him in.

It’s over. We saved her.

And maybe, just maybe, we will be okay.