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Page 20 of Shattered Galaxies (Tears of the Siren #6)

Lorcan

We’d taken several portals over the past few months, and it always fascinated me how different each felt—tasted, almost. The one that Az opened for us was cloaked in darkness—not unusual, but it moved like a flash of lightning, a blink of existence swathed in shadows.

The minute that we were sheltered within it, it disappeared from around us, leaving our group standing in the middle of rubble underneath the now heavy moonlight.

“That seemed faster than usual,” I murmured.

Cash nodded in agreement, taking my hand in his.

The others were quiet as I let my power seep out to touch the power signature we were looking for.

While Zander had been our main source of information, I was starting to realize that I was more than capable of reaching out and feeling it myself.

There was something very empowering about that—about feeling as strong as I knew I had the potential to be.

“I feel something. Whether it’s what we’re looking for or not, I’m not sure,” Zander said, our path taking us toward a crumbled staircase and the great room that stood behind it.

It was clear this had once been a mighty castle, an impressive feat of architecture.

It was also clear from the blood-stained floors and fire-scorched walls that something horrible had happened here.

Everything was burned and broken. In a fight for freedom? Possibly. But even before that, something had tainted these walls with true darkness. Agony and suffering resided in the very bones of the structure, as if it was built on the torture of others. Underneath that, though, there was power.

Magic. A tone. A note. A song. It wasn’t remnants of what had existed before, but what was still to be claimed. What waited here for me.

Setting my shoulders back and not letting my unease about the state of this place or its history set me back, I walked toward the throne room, though no chair or monarch was present.

As my magic slid across the room, invisible but infiltrating everything, a circle of runes lit up the floor.

They weren’t imbued with siren magic, but one that tasted of ash and fire.

It sparkled gold, and as we approached, the floor compressed down, creating a set of circular stairs that led into darkness.

Zander moved ahead of me in silent coordination with the others. I would have found their protectiveness frustrating—but I loved it too much. I knew that it came from a good place, a real place, and not just because they thought I wasn’t capable of handling whatever we were moving toward.

The air was stale and filled with the scent of smoke as we made our way down the stairs. Stone walls, stone floors, and scorch marks everywhere. Nothing else existed. Or if it had, the chamber was now empty.

Disappointment filled me. Was this the wrong place? Or would it just be even more difficult to find this piece of the composition than the others?

“Starlight, come here. Everyone else stand back,” Zander called out.

I could feel Dean in particular bristle at the order, but to his credit, he did heed his advice.

I joined Zander in the center of the room, watching as he rifled through the bag that had been slung across his back and pulled out a familiar case.

“You brought my violin?”

“I did. I also have a temporary bow for it,” he said, handing me a sleek black piece of equipment. “I have a theory on how this works, but you need to start playing.”

I trusted Zander, a lot. So I didn’t question him, instead settling the familiar yet new violin under my chin and closing my eyes.

Drawing on the strings, I kept the melody simple and began to play a smooth song that was delicate and wispy, as if calling to you from the softest dream. At first, nothing changed.

Then I heard it—the grinding of stones, the echo of something being released. I didn’t have to open my eyes to know the room was changing, revealing something far more ancient beneath the ashes and flames. Something that tasted like sea salt and stars.

“This land once belonged to sirens.” Zander’s words rang true as I opened my eyes, continuing the soft melody as I looked over the transformed space.

The stone walls had melted away, crumbled and fallen into the gaps between the platform we stood on and the outer edge of the room. In their place was smooth green jade glowing faintly in the light above. My men had moved quickly, positioning themselves on the stairs, safely out of harm’s way.

Beneath our feet, the floor was veined with gold, and the old stone appeared to be melting, slipping away in a gray liquid to reveal even more jade beneath.

The sound of rushing water echoed far below us, deep and endless.

Overhead, the ceiling glittered with crystal clusters, mimicking stars in a night sky, casting soft starlight across the space.

But the most striking change? In the space between the platform and the farthest wall opposite the stairs stood an altar.

At its center was a brazier, and above it floated a bright red crystal, slowly turning and flashing in the starlight.

It was humming with a song that mirrored mine…

but not perfectly. Something about it was off—a discordant echo, like a reflection that didn’t quite align.

My movements came to a pause, filling the chamber with silence. An odd sense of grief filled me as I stared at the crimson crystal. There was no reason for me to feel that way, but I could feel something was off about this piece of the composition. It wasn’t what I needed.

“And it won’t be. Not until you do what’s needed.”

As I looked for the source of the feminine voice, the air next to the crystal seemed to vibrate, and the shadows transformed into…

Beryl. Holy shit. Surprise filtered through our bond as Zander slid a hand around my waist protectively.

The sound of wings slicing through the air caught my attention as Draven appeared behind me, shadowing me with his frame.

“Beryl.”

“Lorcan—my descendant,” she said softly, her long dark gown enhancing her ethereal appearance. “My granddaughter. You…you look so much like Elizabeth.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I saw her in a garden in the Druid realm. She sent me in this direction. She sent me to you.”

“It was the only place I knew we could talk without disruption—without the world eaters hearing us. This sanctuary is one of many preserved by our family line that serves as a shelter from those that hunted us.”

“And now we’re here,” I said, my brow furrowing. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t have told me to come here, or helped me from the beginning, even if not directly.”

“Because this was your journey,” she said, holding my gaze and pausing her pacing.

“The state you were in before wouldn’t have been right.

You needed to gain strength, to gain confidence in who you were to become.

Because it couldn’t be just anyone, Lorcan—this had to be you. You are the prophecy holder.”

“Why?” It was a question I’d always had. Why me when there were clearly other sirens?

“You were chosen by the Cosmos god himself—we knew this upon your birth. You were chosen because only you can truly hear the stars. What others hear, even Zander, are mere echoes. You experience their true pain, their true cries of agony. Their pleas. Only you can perform the piece perfectly. In the eyes of the Cosmos god, you are unique amongst the unique—a creation of no comparison. It’s why your mother, your father, and your grandfather didn’t hesitate to lay their life down for you.

Because we knew the part you would play in the future of this world.

It’s a secret I’ve held close until this moment.

I’ve held onto the threads of life, despite my soul barely being tethered to this world—to see this moment come to fruition. ”

“You’re alive, though,” I said in awe. “After thousands of years…”

“And after this, I can finally rest,” she answered. “You have sought answers, and I am here to give them to you. The last piece of the composition rests at my side, but I’m sure you can tell it isn’t right. It’s wrong . You must ‘tune’ the final fragment before taking its power within yourself.”

“How do I do that?”

Beryl’s eyes shaded dark as she stepped over the drop in the floor, walking on air to the center of the space where we stood. The closer we got, the more I saw how…transparent she appeared. Almost like a phantom.

“You must surrender a part of your soul—the part that holds your siren.”

Shock radiated through the room as my mouth dropped open. I closed my lips and opened them once again, not fully comprehending what she was saying—what it would mean.

“Surrender a part of my soul? Like give up my siren?”

“Sacrifice your siren. Yes.”

“Absolutely not,” Zander growled, my bond lighting up with panic as I was swept up in the raw emotions of my men, the terror at the idea of our bond being ripped away. The grief at the idea of me losing such a large part of myself.

“I don’t understand,” I said forcefully. “Why? Why is that necessary?”

“Your siren’s essence will fuse into the composition and tune it—complete it—so that you can store it within yourself, whole and ready for use,” she explained softly.

“So my siren would still be there?” I frowned.

“Until the battle. Your soul will be divided through the process. Your siren half will remain inside the fragmented composition, now whole, until it’s unleashed in battle.

Your other half, your mortal soul—the one that is purely elf—will remain unchanged.

You will no longer be a siren, simply an elf. ”

Oh shit. Despite the absurdity of the idea, it rang true. I could feel how my magic wanted to soothe the crystal, to fix it. To make it right.

“I can’t do that,” I said. “I’m bonded to the men around me.

If I remove my siren, then that will be gone.

I won’t lose my connection to them. I mean, part of my soul is literally owned by Desmond!

” Panic was beginning to crash over me, threatening to drown me in the implications of what she was suggesting.

“I understand your worries,” she said with compassion, her eyes closing.

“Much of your heritage has been hidden—purposefully—so you would have no way of knowing. But when sirens procreate, they give up the siren half of their soul and pass it onto their children. It’s why I’m no longer a siren, and neither was your mother.

We became elves, just as we would have been before—both water and star.

Not siren, though. It’s why our lineage was so necessary to continue producing pureblood sirens. ”

“So you lose your connection to your bonded?” I asked in horror.

“No, that’s what I was explaining,” she said, closing the gap between us and reaching out her hand.

“Despite what mythology would suggest, your bonded are melded, connected to not your siren but to the real part of your soul. Your mortal coils. That’s why they aren’t affected by your magic.

They’re connected to the permanent part of you, much like your djinn is. ”

I nearly collapsed with relief. Thank the fucking Maker.

“I don’t like the idea of you having to sacrifice your magic, even if it doesn’t change the bond,” Draven rumbled, Zander’s sharp nod causing me to feel a warm sensation of appreciation for both of them speaking out.

“So I wouldn’t be able to pass on my siren magic,” I said. I actually wasn’t opposed to that…at all. The idea of a child having the burden of this power was almost more than I could bear.

I mean, of course, Zander could still—but that was a totally different conversation.

“But you would keep everything else,” Beryl confirmed. “I know it’s a lot to consider. I would never ask this of a siren, but you aren’t just any siren, Lorcan.”

For so long I’d hated being a siren, and now I had the opportunity to shed that part of myself. Not out of spite or self-hatred, but because it was needed to accomplish something significant. Something that would save not only the world, but the universe.

Beryl wasn’t forcing me to do this, she was informing me that this sacrifice would be required to fulfill the prophecy.

This was the easiest and hardest choice in the world—one that only I was strong enough to make.

I would lose an innate part of myself but in the end hopefully gain so much more—a future for all.

Survival for our universe.

“You promise it won’t affect my men?” I asked, keeping my gaze on her expression.

Whatever vigor Beryl had once had, had seeped away. She’d truly held onto life for this moment, and something about that bolstered my belief in her.

“When I had your mother, the magic in my bond with my husbands only grew,” she replied. “So yes, it’s my full belief it will not affect your bond or harm them.”

Turning toward my men, I looked at Zander and Draven, both appearing concerned.

I tried to seek out the others, but the distance between us made it difficult for me to gauge how they felt outside of our bond.

I knew that I couldn’t lean on them for a decision, that I had to make this choice myself.

I could walk away, fully aware that they would support me.

But if it meant having only having weeks with them before we were destroyed by the dark ones, then I would rather risk it all.

I would rather risk it for a much longer future.

Still, I hesitated.

Everything inside me screamed to ask more questions, to delay the inevitable, to demand she change her answer, to pretend I hadn’t understood. I wasn’t ready for this—not really. Who would be? It wasn’t just magic, it was me .

The version of myself I’d finally come to accept.

The voice I’d found in blood-drenched music.

Could I really let that go?

I felt the pressure of a thousand lifetimes behind me—my mother, Beryl, the Cosmos god himself—and yet all I could think of were the quiet moments. The soft touches from my men. The tentative hope I’d only just begun to believe in.

Was I strong enough to do this and still be myself on the other side?