Page 145 of The Unbound Witch

He groaned and turned, coughing, and moving achingly slow. But he was moving. Living. Breathing. The second his eyes landed on me, a whimper left his lips. He sat up, pulling me into his strong arms. He didn’t cry. Not one tear.

Instead, he wiped mine away and whispered, “I’m so glad I asked for those five more minutes.”

I broke, crying and clutching him as I buried my face into his neck.

“What the fuck?” Kirsi’s raspy voice shattered my heart.

She’d made it, somehow. She walked around the pedestal. Walked. In full physical form, all markings… gone.

“Kir?” Nym’s voice was a broken cry as she stood and raced into Kirsi’s arms.

They held each other. Kissing and crying and grabbing each other’s faces. Nym turned to call for Talon, but she hadn’t even finished his name before she staggered and fell to the ground, clutching her heart. Kirsi swiped her hand across her forehead.

Looking down her arms in complete shock, mouth gaping, she managed, “Our power is gone. And so are Scoop and Talon.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, I forced myself to sit up, reaching for my power once more and finding it still gone. Panic rattled in my chest, but I held it at bay. For now. Perhaps it was only drained from the spell.

I reached for Nym, absolutely unmarked as her shoulders began to shake, her head down. Kirsi was there first, though, hauling her to her feet so she could hug her and whisper into her ear. She’d made the ultimate sacrifice any spirit-blessed witch could ever make, and I owed her my life for it.

Every bone in my body protested as I turned to the shifters still lying on the ground. Unmoving. Swallowing my fear, I pushed myself to my feet, fighting the lack of strength so I could get to them. I held my breath as I prepared for the worst. Wondering how I would speak their deaths to their brother, who’d purposefully stayed back, afraid of what he might see.

But the shifters did not lie dead on the ground. Though I wondered how long it would take me to stop referring to them as shifters. Because, with softly lit eyes and markings appearing down their arms and over their skin, they’d clearly become witches. Both deep in a receiving.

“They live,” I said calmly. “But they’re changed.”

Bastian pushed himself from the long green grass, moving beside me. I couldn’t help but study his skin, noting the markings that were still present.

“Holy hell,” he whispered, staring down at his brothers. “They’re going to be so pissed.”

“Can you shift?” I asked, mostly thinking out loud. “Or cast?”

Beautiful black raven wings appeared behind him. He opened them wide and tucked them tight, sending his shadows along the ground.

“The ground.” I gasped. “It’s… green?”

“What the fuck is happening?” Kirsi asked, staring down at the two new witches, holding Nym tight to her side.

“Grey is gone,” Bastian said, his voice stricken.

Turning, I wrapped myself around him. I knew he was only a part of Bastian. That his easy smiles and quick wit were still around. But Grey had been a whole different person to me, had taken the first ride with me to the castle, had been the first one to tell me that everything I believed to be true wasn’t. I’d miss him. I’d miss the dimple and calculating green eyes. The moment I’d shared with him at the cabin. Even the way he laughed with his whole body. But maybe that was still in there somewhere, buried beneath the scars and fresh wounds.

I turned to the final witch on the ground, a halo of chestnut hair laid perfectly around her. She hadn’t moved at all, hadn’t taken a breath. She was gone.

“Why did she…Why would she have done that?”

“You didn’t hear her?” Kirsi asked, kneeling down to close Willow’s eyes. “You saved her in the River Coven and the Dark King released her in Moss. Her family perished. She thought she was strong enough to pay back that life debt and live through it.”

“She was a fool,” Bastian said, moving to look down at her. “A hero in the final moment of her life, but a goddamn fool.”

Kirsi shook her head. “She wasn’t. She was brave when it mattered most. That would be Raven, if not for her. Don’t forget that, King.”

Looking down at the discarded body of the silent hero, I couldn’t help but see my own face there, ashen and still. She hadn’t been strong enough, powerful enough. The eighth heart thrust into the spell that was never meant to be. Maybe Bastian was right and she had been foolish. But so had everyone else. They’d crossed that line, throwing themselves into the fold because we were family. But Willow had done it for another reason. Maybe to save her own soul. Maybe to feel that depth of power. Regardless, her single sacrifice had changed the world forever. Had been the final drop of life to reconstruct the Grimoire that still whispered nonsense to me.

63

KIRSI

Scoop’s eyes had been the same as mine, dull gray and stunning. If I looked in a mirror, I wondered if I would still see him. Still feel him, though he’d gone. He’d spent the last of his days as a tiny panther, but for years, he’d paced my mind as a great black beast, with thundering muscles that could cleave the world, should we will it. I believed him to hate that vulnerable kitten form, though he never faulted me for the name Scoop. I’d loved that piece of my soul with every beat of my living heart and every phantom sound of my dead heart. And he was gone.