Page 10 of Awakened Destiny (The Dark Ascendant #3)

Marius

The Morrigan's fury erupts like a volcano, her raven-black hair whipping around her face as she turns on the others.

She knows she can't kill me while the Raven King is trapped inside me. Small comfort as I watch her unloose hell on the others. The goddess ’ s hand lashes out and a ribbon of darkness wraps around Callen's throat, lifting him from the ground. His face turns red as he claws at the shadowy noose.

"Callen!" Lochan shouts. He charges forward, blade out, but I know he ’ ll never use it. It ’ s still Brigid ’ s body.

The goddess rotates her wrist. Lochan goes flying, crashing into empty oil drums with a deafening noise that reverberates throughout the building.

The Morrigan's eyes blaze as she turns her wrath on Rory and Tiernan. With a snarl, she splays her fingers and tendrils of inky darkness shoot from her fingertips. They wrap around Rory's legs, yanking him off his feet. He hits the ground hard, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs.

Tiernan leaps to help him, but the Morrigan is too fast. She moves her hand, and a wave of pure force slams into Tiernan's chest. The blow lifts sends him hurtling across the room. He crashes into a stack of wooden pallets that splinter and collapse around him.

The goddess's laughter bounces off the walls, a chilling sound of madness and fury.

"Weak, pathetic beings," the Morrigan hisses. "Did you truly think you could stand against a goddess?"

The Morrigan whirls to face me, her eyes wild with spitefulness. "You'll watch them die, boy. One by one, I'll tear them apart, using the vessel they love."

But as she turns back to her victims, I notice something. A flare in her eyes, a tremor in her hand. The goddess's rage is making her sloppy, her movements less precise. She's so consumed by vengeance that she's losing her iron grip on Brigid's body.

I watch closely, searching for any sign of Brigid coming through. The Morrigan's control is wavering, like a radio signal fading in and out. For a split second, I catch a glimpse of Brigid—my Brigid—in those wild eyes.

The goddess's movements grow erratic. Her fingers twitch and spasm and it ’ s clear there is a battle raging beneath the surface. Brigid's consciousness fights to break free. Her desperate need to protect her mates powers her struggle against that which otherwise would be unassailable. The Morrigan miscalculated. She may be the goddess of fate, but fate itself is bigger than anything, including the Morrigan.

The others sense it too. Callen's eyes widen as the dark rope around his throat loosens just enough for him to draw a desperate breath.

In that moment, a wild, do-or-die plan flashes through my mind. The Raven King's power whirls beneath my skin, a dark storm craving to be let go, as I hold it in check. If I can channel that magic—his magic—into Brigid, it might give her the strength to fight back against the Morrigan's control.

But it's dangerous. Reckless. This shadow magic is volatile, unpredictable, stronger than anything I ’ ve ever felt. It could tear Brigid apart from the inside out. Or worse, it could amplify the Morrigan's power, dooming us all.

I hesitate for a heartbeat, weighing the risks. The goddess's grip on Callen tightens once more, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. Time's running out.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach deep, tapping into the line of magic that was separated from the Raven King when he became locked away in my mind. It responds eagerly, with shocking disloyalty. It slides and slithers, hungry and wanting to wrap itself around every particle of my being. For a moment, I fear I'll lose myself in its abyss.

But I push through, forcing the magic to bend to my will. I shape it, mold it. Carefully, I begin to draw the magic out, channeling it through my body. It burns, yet it feels like it ’ s turning my blood to ice.

I can feel him thrashing against the bars of his prison. You think you can bleed me dry and survive ? His voice scrapes raw against my skull. She ’ ll flay you alive for this.

I don ’ t reply. Don ’ t stop.

The Raven King's mental howls of anger and anguish tear through my mind like jagged shards of glass. His rage threatens to shred my sanity to ribbons. But I can't think about that.

Brigid ’ s there, trying to stay alive, like a candle drowning in its own melted wax.

My tattoos ignite. It ’ s not fire now—it ’ s worse. The ink becomes liquid frost, siphoning up from my bones, through muscle, out through pores. A black thread unravels from my sternum, quivering in the air between me and the monster wearing my mate ’ s face. The thread pulses once. Twice.

Then it plunges.

Stop ! The Raven King batters at my consciousness. You ’ re killing us both !

He ’ s right. My knees hit the cracked cement floor. Blood drips from my nose as the thread is still pulling, draining me, us, faster than I can think.

“ Marius!” Tiernan ’ s voice slices through the chaos. “ She ’ s not—”

The Morrigan spins toward Callen, shadows making her hand morph into talons. Brigid ’ s body moves wrong now—stutter-stepped, disjointed. Like two souls fighting the controls.

Callen doesn ’ t flinch. Bastard actually bares his throat. “ Do it,” he says. “ Give her a reason .”

The Morrigan ’ s talons twitch against Callen ’ s throat—then freeze. Her entire body spasms, shadows peeling back from Brigid ’ s hands like ink dissolving in water. “ No,” the goddess snarls, her voice cracking down the middle. Brigid ’ s left hand whips up, seizing her own right wrist. Bone creaks.

Callen doesn ’ t move. Doesn ’ t blink. Blood wells where claw meets skin.

“ Fight her.” My voice barely carries. The siphon thread quivers, thinning. Hold. Hold.

The Morrigan ’ s lips twist into a mockery of a smile. The Raven King laughs inside my skull, wet and broken.

But then Brigid ’ s fingers flex. Just once. Her voice scrapes out: “ Enough.”

The siphon snaps.

I collapse forward, palms slapping concrete as vomit burns my throat. My tattoos aren ’ t just fading—they ’ re turning into smoke, black lines curling like burnt paper edges before they disappear. Some vanish entirely, others are leaving pale gray scars. The Raven King ’ s presence shrinks to a faint itch behind my eyes.

Brigid staggers, but her eyes find mine. Her pupils oscillate between liquid mercury and pale gray. When she speaks, both voices layer—Brigid ’ s soft tone undercut by the Morrigan ’ s velvet purr. “ This changes nothing, buachaill . She can ’ t hold me forever.”

“ Watch me,” Brigid whispers.

Then she convulses. Crumples.

I try to lunge for her, but my body says fuck you and faceplants instead. Cement grit sticks to my cheek. Boots pound nearby—Lochan barking orders, Callen ’ s curse slicing the air. Someone yanks me onto my back. Rory ’ s big face and shaggy hair swims above me. “ Still breathing, asshole?”

“ Regrettably.”

He snorts. Lets my skull thud back down. “ Typical.”

I turn my head to watch Callen as he crouches over Brigid ’ s limp form, his hands hovering above her sternum. His throat ’ s a mess of blood and shadow residue. Tiernan grips his shoulder. “ Don ’ t.”

He takes Callen ’ s place over Brigid and his palms press down. Golden light spills between his fingers. Druid shit—all earth chants and healing energy.

Lochan materializes beside me, arms crossed. “ Transferring the Raven King ’ s power to a goddess-vessel. That ’ s your solution? You might have killed her.”

“ Worked, didn ’ t it?”

“ She ’ s comatose.”

“ Not dead.”

His eyes glint. “ You better hope that stays true.”

“ Of course I fucking hope it does. I love her as much as you all do.”

Brigid gasps and we all freeze.

“ Again,” she wheezes. “ Say that again.”

“I love you,” I whisper.

Lochan ’ s composure cracks, just a split-second flinch.

Tiernan exhales hard through his nose. “ Welcome back.”

“ Didn ’ t go anywhere. Just got a little sidetracked.” Brigid’s voice is weak. "Marius?”

I lift my head to try to see her better. “ Still alive, little bird."

Her mouth quirks, trying to smile.

Then her eyes roll back.