Page 107 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

Her touch is warm and steady, the kind of embrace that feels like the sun breaking through storm clouds.

She holds me as if she’s afraid to let go, her breath steadying as she rests her chin briefly on my shoulder.

It’s not the tentative, unsure touch I’ve known most of my life—this is open, heartfelt, and completely unguarded.

For a moment, I’m caught off guard by her vulnerability.

I hesitate before wrapping my arms around her in return, unsure of what to make of this strange, comforting moment.

Gwyn pulls me closer, her grip firm, as if to say, You’re here.

You’re safe. It’s an odd sensation—this sense of being welcomed, of belonging.

Her happiness feels genuine, and it warms something deep within me that I didn’t realize had gone cold.

When she finally pulls back, Gwyn keeps hold of my hands, her fingers curling around mine with a careful tenderness.

She looks down at them, at the scars I can’t hide, but there’s no flinch, no hesitation.

Her thumb brushes across the jagged lines as if she’s telling me there’s nothing here to be ashamed of.

“I was so worried,” she says softly, her voice trembling just enough to betray how much she’d been holding in. “You’re... okay.”

Her relief stirs something deep in me, something close to gratitude, though the words fail to come.

Instead, I glance down at our joined hands, marveling at how easily she holds me, scars and all, as if they don’t matter in the slightest. Malachi’s gaze lingers, studying me as if measuring the distance between who I was and who I’ve become.

His eyes are calculating, making sure I am whole enough for whatever comes next.

“Well, you look like you got the fuck?—”

Gwyn’s swift hit to Alias’s stomach silences him, the words vanishing as he stumbles back.

Casper growls deeply, and the smallest of smiles tugs at the corners of my mouth.

“Shit—okay, I deserved that.” Alias straightens, rubbing his ribs with exaggerated flair, then tosses a wink in my direction. “Speaking of violent women…Vanessa’s still gagged. Still starving. Real sunshine these days.”

Gwyn groans.

“Why are you like this?”

He shrugs, pulling an apple from his bag.

“I figured our princess might want to know her greatest admirer is still alive. Miserable, but alive.”

A smile touches my lips, and I shake my head at Alias’s antics. But when I glance toward Casper, the warmth fades from my lips. His gaze heavy and distant, haunted by something he’s struggling to voice.

“What is it?” I ask softly .

“King Sarris found the stone,” Casper says, his voice low.

The gravity of it sinks in, and my jaw clenches as I look away, the earth beneath me seeming to shift.

“Where’s Jason?”

My voice cracks the stillness, but when I turn to Callum, his expression betrays nothing—only the silence of his uncertainty.Before I get an answer, Casper moves, his hand embracing mine, pulling me into motion. We move quickly, scrambling over rocks as the path ahead twists and turns.

Around the bend, I see Jason and Celaena standing by a horse, illuminated by the glow of torchlight.

My brows furrow as Jason’s eyes scan me, searching for signs of injury, concern written across his face.

He steps forward, but before he can reach me, Casper is there, stepping between us like a wall.

His body is tense, his posture rigid, and the air between them crackles with energy.

Jason meets his gaze, a silent challenge passing between them, and I step forward, placing a hand on Casper’s shoulder, urging him to move aside.

As he does, Jason steps closer, reaching for my hands.

But the moment his eyes fall upon the scars etched into my skin, he freezes and pulls his hands back, the shock and shame clear in his eyes.

Casper reacts instantly, a low hiss escaping his lips as his hand shoots to Jason’s throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him against a tree. The dagger glints in the torchlight, the promise of violence clear.

“Don’t you ever look at her again!” Casper growls.

Jason’s eyes widen, realization flashing across his face, but I only watch, still, as the moment stretches between them.

I move to Gwyn, a silent plea in my eyes, and she passes me her gloves.

I slip them on, the familiar feel of fabric against my skin helping my mask settle back into place.

The coolness of the gloves, the weight of the magic at my fingertips—it’s all a part of the dance now, a quiet promise of control.

I turn to Jason, a fragile calm masking the storm churning within .

“What did you find out?” My voice slices through the suffocating silence, cold and precise, leaving no room for evasion or pretense.

Jason meets my gaze, his eyes clouded with sorrow. He hesitates, as if willing the words to dissipate before they leave his mouth. But there is no escape from what must be said.

“King Sarris has the stone,” he finally says, his voice strained, each word a blow that lands with crushing force.

“My father will meet with him at the next full moon to harness its power.” His eyes rest on me, turmoil etched into his face.

“I’ve been asked to join them—to leave you and the Vampire Kingdom to perish in ruin. ”

My nails dig into my palms, the sting grounding me as Casper lets him go. His gaze lingers temporarily before he steps back toward me, the suspense in the air still thick.

“The stone,” I murmur, my mind already racing. “Where is it?”

Jason’s jaw tightens, his silence as deafening as a scream. Finally, he exhales, his shoulders sagging.

“It’s hidden in the Obsidian Vault beneath the ruins of Aramar,” he says, “A place protected by ancient magic, older than even the vampire kingdom. Only a king with a direct bloodline—or someone bonded to one—can retrieve it.”

“How convenient,” I bite out, my voice dripping with venom.

Jason presses on, his tone foreboding.

“The stone isn’t just any relic. It’s an anchor, a nexus of primordial magic. If King Sarris and my father unlock its full potential, they’ll have the power to reshape reality itself. Life, death, time… They’ll control it all.”

"And their plan?" Alias demands, his fury barely contained as he steps closer.

Jason hesitates, shame clouding his face

“They want to break through the wards protecting your castle and your father,” he admits.

“The magic you wove—it’s too strong for any direct attack.

But with the stone, they could unravel your protections from within.

Once the wards fall, they’ll storm the castle and eliminate any resistance.

Your father, the council, your allies… None would survive. ”

The room falls into silence as his words sink in. The wards I created were meant to make the castle impenetrable, a fortress against any threat. The thought of them failing, of my father and our kingdom falling to Sarris and Jason’s father, sends a cold wave of dread through me.

“And after that?” Gwyn’s voice is more biting than I’ve ever heard it, her usual gentleness replaced by a jagged edge.

Jason lowers his gaze, his voice barely a whisper.

“Then they’ll rebuild the world in their image. King Sarris will rule unchallenged, and my father will secure his legacy. They’ll crush anyone who opposes them and claim dominion over life and death.”

Every pair of eyes rests on me, as if I hold the solution to this impossible puzzle.

My mind reels, piecing together fragments of old texts and whispered legends.

The Obsidian Vault is a place of myth, its wards fueled by the blood of its creator’s lineage.

Magic that binds itself to life—magic that cannot be cheated or undone by force.

“We’ll need to find a way to break through the magic,” I say finally, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “I need to return to the castle. The library there holds ancient tomes that might offer a way around the Vault’s protections.”

Callum steps forward, his expression dark.

“Or we could just kill Sarris,” he says, his tone low and laced with lethal intent. “Use his blood to open the Vault ourselves.”

“It won’t work,” Casper interjects calmly. “This kind of magic needs a living bloodline. Killing Sarris would sever the bond. The wards would remain intact.”

The room falls silent again. My thoughts race, but there is no easy path, no simple answer. Finally, I speak.

“And you,” I say, my voice cutting through the silence. “What did they promise you?”

Jason flinches, the shame in his eyes deepening.

“A seat at the table,” he admits, his voice trembling. “A chance to save my people, to ensure their survival under the new order.”

I smile softly, taking in his words, but I’m not speaking to him.

“I wasn’t talking to you. ”

My eyes shift to Celaena, her gaze now trained on me. She steps forward, her golden hair hidden beneath a royal blue cloak, her presence a quiet threat.

“Lord Striden believes you’ve infiltrated Jason’s heart,” she mocks, her words dripping with disdain as she tilts her head, studying me. “They won’t wait for his arrival to begin their plan.”

I step closer to Celaena.

“And what plan might that be?”

Her lips curl into a cruel smile, the kind that speaks of bitterness and jealousy.

“They plan to slit your throat sometime between now and then,” she says, her voice coy, as if savoring the idea.

I exhale slowly, her words dissipating like smoke against the unease blanketing the room.

Jason moves forward, fury igniting in his eyes, but I raise my hand.

The magic surges, dark and cold, spilling from my fingertips like a living shadow.

It twists through the stillness, hungry and ancient, coiling around her neck.

It tightens just enough to steal her breath, forcing a gasp—a chilling reminder of the power she dares to challenge.

“Tell me, Celaena,” I whisper, my voice slicing through the silence, “did you volunteer to do his bidding?”