Page 25 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

Paesha

T he Remnants exploded outward in a torrent of shadows and smoke. They twisted and coiled through the air, feeding on Quill’s terror, growing stronger with each passing second. The darkness spread like ink through water, smothering the walls and floor.

I tried to direct them toward Quill, to use them to lift her to safety.

But they had a will of their own, fueled by my deepest fears and darkest impulses.

Instead of rescuing Quill, they began to tear into the house.

Thorne’s house. The place I’d fallen for him.

This power was born of only revenge and fury.

Nothing else. Built of memories. Uncontrollable. Untamed.

Wallpaper peeled away in long, ragged strips. The floor down the hall buckled and splintered, the wood groaning in protest. The chandelier above shattered, crystals and shards of glass hung suspended in the frozen air.

Archer fell to a knee. I turned to Aeris, hoping she’d break free of his hold on time, but she hadn’t moved. Hadn’t even blinked. And still Quill hung over a mysterious cavern in Thorne’s house, caught in time that was clearly slipping away from Archer’s control.

This is your chance. Our moment of true power.

Let them fall.

Let them hurt.

They all deserve it. Quill will betray you too, in time. They always do.

You’re alone. You’ve always been alone.

Run. Leave them all behind.

The Remnants tore through the house because I had no control over them.

They moved, fueled by the monster I’d become.

Is this what Alastor felt? This raw, unbridled power coursing through his veins?

He’d commanded them so effortlessly when I could barely keep mine from destroying everything in their path.

“Please,” I yelled, trying to command them. I pulled and shoved and threw my will through my mind, desperate. And failing.

The binding marks on my wrists flared to life as if answering my thoughts. I knew what they meant now. Why they burned. But I would not be summoned like a fucking pet even if I could almost hear Alastor’s mocking laughter echoing in the distance.

“You can do this,” Archer said, reaching for me. “Take my hand and we’ll do it together. Grab her gently and bring her in. That’s all. Nice and easy.”

The quiver in his voice scared me. He was so quiet. Too quiet. So drained he couldn’t stand. I slid my hand into his, and the world went silent. The screaming stopped. The voices in my head quieted. Even the creaking of the house faded to nothing. He was my anchor. I needed him. Now and always.

In that moment of perfect stillness, Archer’s grip tightened on mine.

His voice, rough with determination, gave me strength as he lost his.

“Let my strength be your shield against the darkness, Paesha. You’re not alone.

Fight back with me. Fight back and I’ll stand between you both and the dark.

” The words felt older than time, though I knew he was just speaking from his heart, desperate to save her but also me from the madness.

The change hit like an avalanche, his words carrying me through.

I was not alone.

I was not alone.

Power surged. Mine, the final drops of his, and Quill’s energy wove through it all, her fear and love and desperation creating patterns I could feel but not comprehend.

The three of us connected in ways that defied explanation, bound together by something vast and terrible and beautiful, breaking past the poison of the Remnants, beyond the monster pacing within my soul.

The inky black tendrils recoiled, hissing, fighting back for control.

A searing pain blazed down my back, as if someone had carved sigils of fire along my spine.

I gritted my teeth against it, fighting to maintain focus as the burning sensation spread outward.

The Remnants, those writhing shadows that had never truly been mine to control, suddenly snapped to attention, not because they were tamed, but because they recognized something in me.

The grit. The strength. The little girl on the streets that had no choice but to battle the world to fucking survive.

“Hold on, Quilly,” I whispered, and sent them forward.

The shadows moved like liquid silk through the air, wrapping around Quill’s suspended body with impossible gentleness.

They cradled her. As they drew her back from the void, I felt Archer’s hand go slack in mine.

The moment his fingers slipped away, something inside me recognized the price of what we’d done, though I couldn’t begin to understand its true meaning.

He crumpled to the floor beside me, and time shuddered back into motion with a sound like breaking glass.

The shattered crystals from the chandelier rained down, tinkling as they hit the floor.

Quill was safe, cradled in a cocoon of shadows that lowered her gently to the ground beside me.

As soon as her feet touched the floor, the Remnants dissipated like smoke, leaving her trembling and wide-eyed, but unharmed.

I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight as she sobbed against my chest. Her small body shook with the force of her fear and relief.

“I’ve got you,” I murmured into her hair. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Over Quill’s head, I saw Aeris stumble slightly as she regained her balance, blinking in confusion at the scene before her. Her eyes darted from the gaping hole in the floor to Quill in my arms, then to Archer’s crumpled form.

“What in the name of all the Fates happened?” she demanded.

I ignored her, focusing instead on Archer. He lay motionless on the floor, his face ashen. I reached out with my free hand, pressing my fingers to his neck. His pulse was there, but weak.

Quill’s sobs quieted to hiccups as she pulled away from me and looked at Archer’s still form. She reached out a trembling hand, placing it gently on his chest next to mine. Her touch was feather light, as if she feared he might shatter beneath her fingers. “Is he…?”

“He’s alive,” I assured her, though my own voice shook with uncertainty. “He saved us both, Quilly. He’s just exhausted.”

As if responding to our touch, a faint shudder ran through Archer’s body.

His eyelids fluttered, and a soft groan escaped his lips.

Quill and I leaned closer, hardly daring to breathe as we waited for him to fully awaken.

Slowly, painfully, his eyes opened. A weak smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Did we do it?” he rasped.

Before I could answer, Quill let out a cry of joy and flung herself over him. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she buried her face in his shoulder. Archer winced at the impact but managed to lift one arm to return the embrace.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“Can’t breathe, kid,” he said.

She scrambled backward, eyes wide as if she’d somehow hurt him. “Sorry, Archie.”

I grabbed her arm, snatching her away from the edge of the pit. “Be careful.”

Quill glanced back at the pit. Her fingers trembled as she clutched my arm.

For a moment, her expression softened into something older than her years—worry, guilt, and a fragile kind of awe.

She looked at Archer, then at me, and her gaze fixed on the jagged tear across my shoulder where my shirt had burned away.

The edges of the fabric were blackened and curling, revealing the faint glow of charred lines that still pulsed softly beneath my skin.

She put both hands on the sides of my face. “What happened to you?”

“I’m just a little broken right now, my girl. But I’ll figure it out. I think it’s him we have to worry about.” I flicked my eyes toward Archer, still lying on the ground.

Aeris kneeled beside us as Thea came barreling into the entryway with several others, young and old at her side.

“Are you okay, Quill?” Aeris asked.

She nodded, scooting closer to me. “We’re both a little broken right now.”

Aeris smiled, reaching forward to tuck a curl behind Quill’s ear. “Just a little is perfectly acceptable.” She turned to me. “Mind if I put this place back together before someone else falls in this pit?”

“We’re not going to take a beat to figure out how it?—”

The door slammed open. And not one, but two giant, furious men stood there, staring down at the cavern in the floor.

Thorne’s face was glorious, honestly. Filled with anger as his eyes traced his damaged home.

I hoped it hurt him to stand there and see the destruction because it was nothing compared to the damage he’d done to my heart.

My power surged at the sight of him, the Remnants hissing curses. But the shadows hadn’t come. Be it from my own exhaustion or the shock of what’d happened, I had no idea. The burn was still there, the bands on my wrists, forever circling. Reminding me I belonged to Alastor now, and he was calling.

“What the fuck did you do to my house, Aeris?”

The goddess stood, shifting backward, clearly realizing Thorne hadn’t come to play nice today. “This wasn’t me. I fixed your knocker,” her eyes slid to me, “and promptly put it back. I’m happy to erase the mess for you, Keeper, if you wish.”

Thorne’s hands turned to fists at his sides.

Tuck, the godsdamned carriage driver of all people, had to pull him back.

“He wishes it,” he said, shaking his head.

Carriage driver wasn’t really fair. He’d sacrificed himself to the prince’s Cimmerians to keep my identity secure.

He’d helped guide the Fray and last I knew, he was working to keep the little, old king safe. Tuck was good. A kind man.

“Very well.” Aeris’s magic filled the space in a wave of heat that ripped the breath from my lungs, and the destruction began to reverse itself.

The gaping hole in the floor closed. Shards of crystal rose from the ground, reforming into the chandelier which reattached itself to the ceiling.

Torn wallpaper smoothed out, erasing all signs of damage.