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Dagny

I think I’m going mad.

In fact, I know it. Ever since the battle—since I changed —I’ve felt the cracks in my soul, pulling me apart at the seams and allowing the magic of The Far Place to flood in. It’s a never-ending well of power that courses through my veins like liquid fire, heating my skin past the point of comfort.

Whenever I close my eyes, it feels like someone is cleaving my skull in half, then bashing my brain to pulp with a rusty ice pick. But keeping them open means I have to witness the shadows swirling and dancing on the wall, mocking me. They’re clearer than ever before—once formless whispers of smoke are now living, breathing figures of people and animals alike.

I’m positive they’re souls—that somehow, my awakening has allowed me to see the remnants of the beings lost to The Far Place—though I really wish I couldn’t.

If you can fear, you can also be brave.

The words of my late mother bring less comfort each hour that goes by, each minute I’m left to rot in Slaine’s dungeon. Chained to the wall like an animal, I’m slowly going mad from my own power. Unable to stop it due to my lack of knowledge. My naivety.

A molten blade pierces my heart as the memories come flooding in, and I’m reminded of the actions that led me to this predicament. If only I hadn’t trusted him. If only I hadn’t listened to my stupid heart and left Malice in the dungeons to rot.

My lip curls as I think of the red-eyed demon responsible for the demise of my mates and me. Those casual lies, all the hope he fed me—worthless and only served to better his life.

If any of Abaddon’s soul pieces were to go by the name they represent, it should be him.

A rush of power floods my veins as my rage crests, casting my skin in a haunting silver light and flooding my sight with luminescence. Malice should be locked in a cage, not the other pieces. Not Cyprien, Lir, or Roark. Not Kaebl.

The blaze of anger is extinguished as my thoughts turn to my four other mates, and that familiar buzz of anxiety floods in. I want to know where my bonded are, to run to them. That invisible cord in my chest is aching horribly, bringing tears to my eyes and filling my bones with lead. The only thing comforting me is the knowledge that they are all alive .

Every now and then, a bolt of pain will travel through the bond to me, and though it hurts me to know my mates are suffering, it’s overshadowed by the relief that they’re still here with me.

But it won’t be for long.

At the last thought, a burst of power explodes behind my eyes, coloring my sight in blinding silver light. I can’t see, but that doesn’t matter—all I know is I need to get free of these chains.

My wounds burst open as I rail against the restraints, coating my arms and neck in thick dark red. I know I’m losing vast amounts of blood, and if I keep going, I’ll die, but I can’t find it in me to care. All I want is to be free, to go to my mates and heal them of their wounds—the ones I’m directly responsible for.

The blame I hold is twice as painful as the metal cutting into my skin, so I keep fighting, and fighting, and fighting until the cuffs cut to the bone and I can’t feel anything other than the bond humming in my chest.

“ You shouldn’t do that. I hate to see beautiful things ruined.”

The muffled voice slinks through the air, the words brushing my skin with wicked undertones and causing my spine to tingle. A piece of my sanity returns as warning bells blare in the back of my mind, snapping me back to reality and allowing me to focus on the green-eyed demon chained to the opposite wall.

Fenryr. Jealousy.

“You can talk?” I ask, irritation coursing through me as I recall our first interaction when he led me to believe he couldn’t . Just like Malice, he lies—meaning I can’t trust him. My lips purse as I shoot a glare in Fenryr’s direction. “Well?”

“I only speak when I feel like it .” He gestures to the metal piece covering the lower half of his face. “It’s more difficult to project than some might think . Painful.”

“Oh…” I lower my arms to my sides as a bolt of sympathy travels down the bond, replacing the spikes of agony I’ve become accustomed to. “I’m sorry.”

“ No need. I’ve gotten used to it by now.”

“How long have you had it? The muzzle, I mean.”

He looks around the room, eyes glazing over in thought. “I’ve lost track. Several months, perhaps.”

“Did Malice put you in it?” I ask, his name exiting my mouth with disdain despite the painful tug of the bond. Fucking soulmates.

Fenryr nods, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile. “Yes. But I don’t blame him. Neither should you.”

I scoff. “Why the hell not?”

“Because it is his nature.”

I tilt my head, a wave of indignation coursing through my veins. “I don’t see how that’s a good reason.”

“Then you’re not looking close enough, little one.”

I take a moment to survey the demon—his cunning, wolflike eyes. The bright green of his hair and the shaved part of his head that has grown out an inch at least. Just like the other soul pieces, he’s inhumanly gorgeous, with a bone structure carved from the gods themselves and a body to match. Though he’s malnourished and his muscles have withered, I have no doubt that at his peak, he’s just as foreboding and powerful as the others.

“Why are you telling me this?”

His eyes crinkle with a smirk. “Because you deserve to know. Because you’re important . Because… you’re the key to it all. ”

I blink, recalling Malice saying those exact words not long ago. “You’re the second demon who’s said that to me.”

“ Twice as right, then, ” he says, his eyes practically closed with the weight of his grin. “You’ll see, little one. You’ll see. But not before it’s time. ”

With that, his beautiful emerald eyes close, bathing the room in total darkness once more. Leaving me alone to wonder just what he meant by that.

I’m sure it’s nothing good.