Page 190 of As Above, So Below

My eyes fall upon Ryc as he races through the soldiers, his midnight black hair streaming behind him. His eyes search the room and find mine in less time than it takes for me to draw breath.

“Vestaris!” Ryc shouts, the desperation in his voice cuts through me like the blade in my hands. “Don’t do this!”

Flashes of light strike the ward, and the ward ripples.

“He will tear down the ward, Vestaris,” Celesta warns softly. “It must be now.”

Rowen and a fleet of soldiers surround Ryc, their weapons aimed, magic at the ready. Ryc’s eyes swing wild and wide, as a blade of light forms in his hands. My fingers tighten around the hilt of the dagger in my hands, its point aimed at my own awaiting heart.

Death, for the living, is inescapable.

Life, for a demon, is a wonderful, painful, joyous, and heartbreaking dream.

I catch his gaze one last time, the pain and pleading rips through my heart unlike anything I’ve ever known. It causes me to stumble, nearly dropping the dagger.

Celesta’s hands steady mine as tears well behind my eyes.

Every instance of staring into Ryc’s breath-stealing gold eyes flash in my mind as the dagger streaks toward my heart.

I send four simple words through our bond.

The same words he once spoke three hundred years ago.

“I will find you.”

It takes every ounce of strength borne of fear, hate, love, and mourning to push past the bones to my heart. Mind shattering, sanity tearing, white-hot pain erupts from within me. And my darkness folds in on itself, coiling and winding so tightly it threatens to crush my lungs.

The pain overtakes every corner of my mind, my soul, my essence, tearing at the very fabric of my being. No scream tears from my lips as my chest heaves and deflates.

The golden braided thread in my mind snaps, falling to the ground where its gleam fades before vanishing—the bondbetween Ryc and I breaks and my heart shatters.

I fall forward, meeting death head on.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The barren expanseof the hells spreads as far as I can see.

The all too familiar ominous red skies, jagged cliffs, dark stone, and lack of life stretches for an eternity. I’ve returned to the uppermost layer of the hells. My hands rise to the center of my chest and my stomach drops as reality makes itself known.

My heart no longer beats.

No more flutter, no more metered ticking.

Stillness meets my fingertips as taloned fingers tear through my shirt, piercing my skin. I wince despite the lack of pain and draw my hands away to stare at them.

Centuries of owning these hands and after just a few weeks they feel foreign, not mine. They’re too demonic, putting on display parts of me I no longer recognize.

Pulling at my innate, I’m met with silence.

My brows furrow.

The shadows within me no longer exist.

I cannot sense them, they do not respond to my call.

Fighting back tears, I take a deep, ragged breath. I’ve never been without my shadows—not since they first manifested at roughly a century old. I’ve been left without the only means I have to truly defend myself while stepping into a realm filled with creatures who won’t think twice about using me.

More than that…