Page 43 of The Deathless One (The Gravesinger #1)

She saw a witch who looked remarkably like herself, cold and freezing in a cave filled with dripping ice.

A man laid out on an altar of stone in front of her, his hair dark and his skin nearly blue with cold.

The witch lifted a blade over her head that glinted even in the darkness before sinking it deep into his belly.

Then another flash, a warm home this time.

But the table before a crackling hearth had been cleared, and the same man was laid out upon it.

A man with dark eyes who had watched Jessamine from the shadows, and even now, it seemed like he stared right at her as a witch lifted a blade high into the hanging herbs above her head before driving it into his heart.

Yet another memory, this time of a little girl.

Her clothing hung off her skinny form, dripping from bones that were too raw edged.

And the man, Elric, yet another form of him kneeling in front of her.

This time he was the one who guided the blade toward his eye, and with a quiet word, allowed the little witch to plunge it through that dark orb.

Countless centuries of pain and torment. She watched him die a hundred times, then a hundred times more. She saw every moment that a witch, just like herself, dug a dagger into his heart, his eyes, his throat. They carved bits and pieces of him away like trophies because they could.

And he let them.

They needed his power, and for the few moments he was in their realm, he was truly free.

She could feel his happiness, the bittersweet ache of life that burned through him.

He was willing to do anything to chase that feeling.

And so for centuries he clawed and scraped for these moments of heartache.

He sought out the pain that always came with becoming a sacrifice for his witches. He knew no other way to live.

She saw their smiles. She felt his hope that this time would be different, that they would see more in him than so many others had before.

But worst of all, she knew how much it hurt every time they betrayed him. And yet this strong, endless man never gave up on them.

Because it had started with a witch frozen on a warm doorstep. Another burnt alive at a stake. Dozens of other women who had suffered because they had magic.

So he had bound himself to those who, like him, were exiled from society. Women who could never really love him because they had use for him, and they used every tool at their disposal.

Her heart broke for him.

When she came back to herself, she felt the inky grip of his realm dripping from her hair. Almost as though she’d been doused in his memories, force-fed everything he didn’t want her to see.

As it was, he already looked at her as though he was nervous. “Well?” he asked, like he was waiting for her to see his real purpose.

He thought she was going to see those memories and want the power. Jessamine had certainly tasted it. She could feel the overwhelming sear of magic that crackled through the veins of every witch who had sacrificed him. And that power was tempting.

With it, she could take her kingdom back a thousand times over.

No one would ever be able to stand against her.

Perhaps many would try, but they would cringe in the dust at her feet, writhing in pain as she forced them to feel what true power really was.

They would die screaming beneath her heel, and she would revel in the sound of their pain.

But that was not who she wanted to be. Yes, her life would be easier. Jessamine would reach her goals so much faster if she stole his power.

But she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she did.

The man in front of her deserved the world.

He deserved to live and feel the wind in his hair, if that was what he wanted.

She couldn’t take that away from him, just like she couldn’t punish those men who feared witches because they feared what that power could bring.

“If I sacrifice you and take your powers,” she rasped, “then won’t I become exactly what those men who killed me feared? And if so, then aren’t they justified in killing me?”

Elric replied with a voice impossibly low. “Is that really what you believe?”

Her brows furrowed as she sought the truth in her heart. “Yes,” she replied. “I do believe they would be right to kill me. If I wanted to seize your power, truly, if I believed our story ended that way, then I would ask you not to raise me again.”

“You are the only person who can bring me to life. I would trade the suffering and the pain again to feel your world. To be alive, yet again. After all this time.”

She cupped his cheek, feeling the warmth and how electric he was to her. Who was she to say that he didn’t deserve to live? Though yes, there was the danger of what he might become. A god unleashed upon a realm that had been godless for centuries? It was madness to even consider.

But she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to.

Instead, she tugged him closer and kissed him again. Sweet and lingering and long, trying to press her feelings into his very soul.

“I promise—” she started.

“Jessamine, make no promises in this realm. They are permanent,” he interrupted.

So she took her time thinking about the wording, and then nodded. “You’re right.”

He sighed out a relieved breath, only to suck it back in when she continued.

“I vow never to sacrifice you, Deathless One. Not in this realm or my own.”