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ERYSS

T he sanctuary’s protective magic hums against my skin as I press a hand to the barrier, preparing to slip through. The ancient spell is thick, a pulse of old energy resisting my passage. I don’t have much magic, but I have enough. The runes sizzle under my touch before the protective shell parts just enough for me to slip into the darkened forest beyond.

I have to find him.

The thought pounds against my ribs like a war drum, violent and unrelenting.

He left me. Again. I let him.

My fingers curl into fists, nails digging into my palms. He’s convinced himself this is his burden alone, that his death is some sort of inevitable sacrifice that will save me. Save everyone.

But I won’t let him die.

The night is too quiet. Not even the insects dare to sing. A whisper of unease slides down my spine, a warning I don’t have time to heed.

Footsteps.

I pivot, magic coiling in my fingertips. Catalina emerges from the shadows, face pale, lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re going after him,” she says, voice laced with accusation.

I don’t answer.

Her shoulders sag, eyes dark with something I can’t name. “Eryss, please. This is a trap. You’re being watched.”

I stiffen.

She shakes her head, jaw tightening.

The elders. Even if she doesn’t say it, I know.

A sound, a rustle of movement, too precise to be the wind has both of us snapping to attention. Catalina steps closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “We need to go back. Now. ”

I don’t get the chance to argue.

Because the shadows move.

They don’t waste time with words.

Blades flash, cutting through the air. A dozen of them. Maybe more. They move like ghosts, their enchanted robes shifting like liquid shadows.

Catalina shouts a warning, magic flaring around her as she throws up a shield. The first strike bounces off, but the impact sends her staggering backward.

The fight erupts.

They’re too fast. Too coordinated. I barely manage to weave through the onslaught, dodging a strike aimed at my ribs. My magic flares, instinctively responding, a burst of energy knocking one assassin off balance.

I go for another, only to see Catalina fall.

A blade buries itself in her shoulder.

Her cry of pain is sharp, raw, but she grits her teeth, twisting to blast the assassin away with a pulse of dark violet energy.

Rage flares through me.

I let my magic surge.

A column of force slams into one of the assassins, sending them crashing into a tree. But the moment of triumph is short-lived.

A dagger presses against my throat.

A cold, whispered voice in my ear: “Make a choice.”

I still, breathing hard.

The assassin behind me tightens their grip. “Kill him.” The words are a command, sharp and absolute. “And return as a hero.”

The blade bites into my skin.

My stomach twists.

Or die as a traitor.

I chuckle, and fearlessly say, “Lie. Whether I kill him or not, I’m dead already.”

The air shifts.

A storm of magic crashes through the trees, a violent surge of power that sends the assassins flying back. The one holding me staggers, their blade slipping.

I hear him.

A roar of pure rage.

I turn, just in time to see Naranus.

He’s covered in blood, his body fractured, but his eyes burn with murderous fury.

The assassins descend on him, their weapons flashing, but he doesn’t stop moving. He rips through them, claws slashing, wings snapping open despite the pain it must cause.

They try to pin him down. They fail.

One moment, they’re attacking.

The next, they’re burning alive.

A pulse of raw, cursed magic explodes from Naranus’ body, a shockwave of unrestrained darkness and stone energy obliterating everything in its path.

The ground splits. The trees shatter.

The assassins scream.

There goes silence.

Naranus collapses.

I lurch forward, catching him before he fully hits the ground. His body is shaking, cracks spreading over his stone-like flesh, his breathing too shallow.

“No, no, no,” I whisper, pressing my hands against his chest. “Naranus—don’t you dare?—”

His lips curl, but it’s not a smirk. It’s pain. “Guess I... went a little overboard.”

I want to shake him. “You—stupid?—”

A wet cough cuts off whatever insult I was about to scream at him.

Catalina groans somewhere behind me. She’s still alive, but she’s badly wounded.

The assassins? Gone. For now.

But the damage is done.

I grip his shoulders, shaking him gently. “Stay with me. We’ll fix this.”

His fingers brush my arm, his grip weak. “Not much time,” he mutters. “You... have to?—”

“Shut up.” I refuse to hear the end of that sentence.

Catalina’s voice is hoarse as she forces herself up. “Eryss.”

I look at her, and immediately regret it.

Because there’s something in her eyes.

Something haunted.

Something terrible.

“There’s a way to break the curse,” she says weakly. “But it requires a sacrifice.”

I freeze.

A sacrifice.

Her words sink in, slow and suffocating.

My stomach twists. “What kind of sacrifice?”