Page 50

Sierra

I woke with a start, my heart racing as I blinked against the dim light filtering through the windows.

For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was, then the warmth of bodies around me brought it all rushing back.

Archer's solid chest beneath my cheek. Callum's leg thrown possessively across mine. Rowen's large hand spanning my waist.

Safety. For now.

My muscles ached pleasantly as I shifted, remnants of our earlier activities sending a delicious warmth through my core. I'd fallen asleep after our passionate entanglement, my body demanding rest after everything it had been through.

"Hey," Archer's voice rumbled beneath my ear, his hand stroking my hair. "How are you feeling?"

I tilted my head to look up at him. Those ice-blue eyes studied me with concern, his dark brows drawn together slightly. "Better," I said, stretching against him and feeling the pleasant pull of muscles. "Stronger."

"Good." His lips curved into a small smile as he pressed them against my forehead. "Because we should probably get to the library soon."

Reality crashed back, extinguishing the warm afterglow of pleasure. The Shadow Beast. Lightsbane. The strange power Gran had never fully explained to me before she died.

"Right," I said, pushing myself up to sitting and immediately missing the warmth of Archer's body against mine. "Let me get cleaned up first."

Twenty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed in comfortable leggings and an oversized sweater I'd borrowed from Callum's wardrobe, we made our way through the winding corridors of the underworld palace.

The stone beneath my feet was cool but not cold, and torches flickered in elaborate sconces along the walls, casting dancing shadows as we passed.

Despite the heat that still lingered in my veins from our bedroom activities, a chill crawled up my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Ever since the Shadow Beast had attacked me, I'd felt it—a lingering presence, like phantom fingers of ice tracing patterns on my skin when I least expected it.

The library doors loomed before us, massive wooden structures carved with intricate symbols I couldn't decipher.

Archer pushed them open with ease, revealing the vast chamber beyond.

Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with books and scrolls that had to be thousands of years old.

The air smelled of parchment, leather, and something deeper, like time itself had a scent.

I shivered again, wrapping my arms around myself as we approached the large table in the center of the room. Ancient books were already spread across its surface, some open to pages marked with thin strips of fabric.

"Cold?" Callum's voice was soft beside me, his pale green eyes studying my face with a knowing expression. Without waiting for my answer, he flicked his wrist, and shadows gathered around him momentarily before coalescing into a thick, soft blanket in his hands.

"Thanks," I said as he draped it around my shoulders, his fingers lingering briefly against my collarbone. "But it's not really about being cold."

He guided me to a chair, his hand resting gently on the small of my back. "The Beast?" he asked, his voice pitched low enough that only I could hear.

I nodded, sinking into the chair and pulling the blanket tighter around me. "It's like... it left a mark. I can still feel it sometimes, like ice under my skin."

Callum crouched beside my chair, his face level with mine. Up close, I could see the tiny flecks of gold in his pale green irises, nearly invisible except in certain light. "Sierra," he said, taking my hands in his. "We won't let it touch you again. I swear it."

"We'll destroy it before it gets anywhere near you," Archer added, moving to stand on my other side. His jaw was set in that determined way that made him look dangerous and incredibly sexy at the same time.

Rowen completed the circle, his towering form casting a shadow over the table as he stood before me. "You have the protection of Hell itself, little one. The Beast may be ancient, but so am I." The conviction in his obsidian eyes was almost comforting.

Almost.

Because beneath their reassurances, I saw it. That flicker of uncertainty that passed between them when they thought I wasn't looking. The slight tightening of Archer's jaw. The way Callum's fingers squeezed mine just a fraction too hard. The tension in Rowen's broad shoulders.

They were worried. And that terrified me more than anything.

I straightened my spine and squared my shoulders, hardening myself against the fear that threatened to paralyze me.

Gran hadn't raised me to cower, even in the face of death itself.

The spirits that had been my childhood companions had taught me that death wasn't the end, but some fates were worse than dying.

"Let's get to work then," I said, forcing a confidence I didn't entirely feel into my voice. "Show me what you need me to read."

Archer nodded, a flicker of approval in his eyes as he recognized my attempt at bravery. He gestured to Callum, who moved to a pedestal in the corner where a massive tome sat encased in what looked like swirling shadows.

The book that Lianna gave to Archer.

Callum's hands moved in complex patterns around the book. The shadows responded to his gestures, thinning and thickening like living smoke. "The containment spell I used when Archer first brought it was temporary. This one's more... robust."

The shadows gradually retreated, revealing an ancient book bound in what appeared to be white leather that somehow gleamed with its own inner light despite the dimness of the library.

Callum lifted it carefully, his expression concentrated as he carried it to our table, the shadows following him like obedient pets.

"Is that... angel skin?" I asked, unable to keep the horror from my voice.

Archer snorted. "No. It's made from the hide of a celestial beast—something like a lion, but with six wings and three heads."

"That's... not as disturbing, I guess," I said uncertainly.

Rowen's lips curved in amusement. "The angels aren't quite that barbaric, little one. They save their cruelty for more... creative endeavors."

Something in his tone made me think there was a story there, but Archer was already opening the book, turning pages with careful precision until he found what he was looking for.

"Here," he said, spinning the book to face me. "This passage discusses the transformation ritual. Callum and I have been struggling with the translation, certain phrases could mean several different things."

I looked down at the page and felt that now-familiar sensation, a buzzing energy starting at the base of my skull and spreading through my mind. The strange symbols on the page should have been incomprehensible, yet somehow I knew exactly what they meant.

"Ready?" Archer asked, pen poised over his notepad.

I nodded, took a deep breath, and began to read the translation aloud.

"When shadow meets starlight, the hidden shall be revealed.

The weapon born of both worlds sleeps until awakened by blood of the heavens freely given.

" My voice sounded different to my own ears, deeper somehow, resonant with power I didn't understand.

"The vessel must be pure, cleansed in the fires of creation and bathed in the tears of the fallen. "

Archer motioned for me to pause, scribbling rapidly on his notepad. He muttered something under his breath, then gestured for me to continue.

"Three must stand as one. Lord of darkness, child of shadow, and heaven's forsaken champion.

Their power combined shall break the seal, but beware: What sleeps within answers only to the worthy.

" I continued reading, the words flowing from my lips as naturally as if I'd spoken this language my entire life.

Archer stopped me again, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scratched out a line on his notepad and rewrote something.

"Can you read that paragraph again?" he asked, tapping his pen against the table. "Focus especially on the part about 'the vessel must be pure.'"

I nodded, returning my attention to the glowing text. "The vessel must be pure, cleansed in the fires of creation and bathed in the tears of the fallen. Only then can it contain the light without shattering."

As I spoke the words again, the meaning seemed to shift, becoming clearer. "No. It's not 'tears of the fallen.' It's... 'essence of the fallen.' And 'fires of creation' is more like... 'the forge of creation.'"

Archer's eyes narrowed. "Say the entire passage one more time. Slowly."

I took another deep breath and focused entirely on the swirling symbols before me. This time, they seemed to pulse with each word I spoke, as if responding to my voice.

"When shadow meets starlight, the hidden shall be revealed.

The weapon born of both worlds sleeps until awakened by blood of the heavens freely given.

The vessel must be pure, cleansed in the forge of creation and bathed in the essence of the fallen.

Three must stand as one. Lord of darkness, child of shadow, and heaven's forsaken champion.

Their power combined shall break the seal, but beware: What sleeps within answers only to the worthy. "

Archer froze, his pen hovering above the page. Then, in a sudden burst of movement, he leaped from his chair, sending it clattering backward onto the stone floor.

"That's it!" he exclaimed, his normally controlled expression replaced by excitement. "I know what we have to do!" His ice-blue eyes were bright, almost feverish, as he looked at each of us in turn.

"The vessel isn't Lightsbane. It's me. I'm the vessel that needs to be cleansed! And the 'forge of creation'—that has to refer to the fires at the heart of the underworld, in the deepest level where Rowen forged his crown. Where his father was born."

He turned to Rowen, practically vibrating with energy. "The 'essence of the fallen'—that's angel blood, but not just any angel blood. It has to be from one who fell from grace."

"Like your mother," Callum said softly.

Archer nodded sharply. "And the three who must stand as one. It's us. Rowen, the lord of darkness. Callum, child of shadow. And me, heaven's forsaken champion." A wild grin spread across his face as the pieces fell into place.

"We can do this," he said, looking at me with such hope that I felt my own spirits lifting in response. "We can transform Lightsbane into Lightbringer, and then we can kill the Shadow Beast once and for all."

For the first time since the Beast had attacked me, I felt something other than fear and uncertainty. As I looked at the three powerful beings surrounding me, each so determined to protect what was theirs, hope bloomed in my chest like a fragile, precious flower.