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LIORA

T he world is wrong.

I feel it in every fiber of my being, in my blood, in the way the earth trembles beneath me as if the land itself is suffocating under something monstrous.

The presence, no, the thing that has haunted us, whispered in my mind, slithered through Dain’s rage and my fear—has taken form. And it is horrifying.

It rises from the ruins, from the shadows, from me.

The artifact has fed on everything, on Dain’s hatred, on my soul, on the cursed history entwining us both. It knows us. It remembers us. It has shaped itself into something that should never have existed, and now it stands before us, pulsing with unnatural life, made of writhing darkness, of hunger.

Its form shifts, flickers, constantly becoming, as if the world itself refuses to accept what it is. A god that was never meant to be.

It speaks with my voice.

"I am inevitable."

I freeze. My own voice warped, echoing from something wrong, slicing me like a blade. It is speaking with me, through me, as if I have always belonged to it.

Dain’s grip tightens around me, claws digging into my waist, as if he’s afraid I’ll slip through his fingers again. His breath is ragged against my temple, his body braced like a shield between me and the entity before us.

"Get out of her," he snarls, fangs bared.

But the creature only laughs.

I feel it move inside me.

A sickening pull twists deep in my core, an invisible chain yanking me forward. My body is not my own. It is calling me.

The artifact wants me.

"You were always mine, Amara."

The name punches me in the gut, and suddenly, memories are unraveling like a flood. Past lives. Past deaths. I see myself over and over, falling, burning, screaming, every version of me being ripped apart, reforged, thrown back into existence just to suffer again.

This thing has been feeding on me for lifetimes. It has always been waiting.

My knees buckle.

I feel Dain react before I can even think, his arms catching me, his snarl vibrating through me. But even as he holds me, I can feel his body stiffen. He doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know how to stop it.

"Don’t listen to it," he growls, voice sharp as steel. "Fight it, Liora."

But I can’t.

Not when it’s inside me. Not when it’s tearing through my soul, threading itself into every piece of me, whispering.

"You were made for this."

The words slither into my mind, seductive and patient. It doesn’t need to kill me. It just needs me to give in. To accept.

To surrender.

"Just let go," it croons. "Dain will be free. You will finally rest. No more pain. No more running. Just peace."

It’s a lie.

I know it’s a lie.

Gods help me—I want to believe it.

I tremble in Dain’s arms, my hands gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. My body wants to step forward, to submit, to let this thing take me so it can finally end.

But Dain won’t let me go.

He feels it, the moment I start to slip.

He reacts the only way he knows how.

He kisses me.

His lips crash against mine, furious, desperate, unyielding. His claws bury into my waist, dragging me against him as if his body alone can keep me from breaking apart. He is not gentle. He is not kind.

He is claiming me back.

The entity screams in rage.

Pain explodes through me as it tries to pull me away, as the magic anchoring me to it shreds apart. The artifact cannot take what Dain is willing to destroy for me.

Heat flares between us. Not fire. Not magic.

Something older. Deeper.

The bond.

Not the one I severed.

A new one.

Something stronger. Something forged by choice, not by fate. Not forced.

I gasp into him, my fingers twisting into his hair, and the abyss howls in fury.

"No!"

The ground cracks. The sky ripples. The creature lunges.

Dain rips me away just as a tendril of darkness slashes between us, barely missing my chest. He moves fast, wings flaring wide as he shields me, snarling like a beast, his hands glowing with raw power.

"We end this," he says, his voice thick with a promise.

The artifact screeches.

The presence unleashes itself in a tidal wave of shadows, reaching for me, for Dain, for everything.

Dain lunges, not away from it. But toward it.

His power collides with the darkness, a violent clash that shakes the ruins, sends fissures tearing through the earth.

I stumble back, heart hammering, watching him fight, watching him throw himself into battle without hesitation.

Something in me snaps.

I won’t let him do this alone. I won’t be a curse anymore.

I plant my feet, summoning everything—every past life, every pain, every power I never wanted. The magic answers.

It rises from within me, raw and untamed, and this time—this time, I don’t run from it.

I embrace it.

A surge of golden light ignites around me, burning through the shadows, forcing them back. The creature recoils, screeching as I step forward, power crackling through my veins.

Dain turns, and his eyes widen at the sight of me.

I lift my hands, feeling the magic course through me, and for what feels like centuries, I speak the words Amara once spoke to protect him.

"I seal thee."

Light erupts.

The entity shrieks, convulsing as my magic, our magic lashes around it, binding it. Chaining it. Dragging it back to the void where it belongs.

The artifact fractures, cracks racing along its surface.

I see it then, the moment Dain understands.

The only way to end this.

His gaze locks onto mine, fierce and terrifyingly gentle.

"Liora—"

I don’t let him finish.

I pour everything into the final spell, into the seal, into the only thing that will keep the darkness from ever coming back.

The artifact shatters.

The presence lets out one last, agonized wail and then it is gone.

Silence crashes over the ruins.

Dain is on his knees, panting, his body covered in bruises and claw marks. The magic still hums between us, alive, whole, but different now. No longer a curse.

Just ours.

I take a step toward him. He looks up at me, something unreadable in his expression.

He reaches for me.

His hand curls around my wrist, and he tugs me forward, his forehead pressing against mine.

"Liora," he breathes.

I close my eyes.

It’s over.

But we are not.