Page 30 of Wicked Vows (Cursed Darkness (DarkHallow Academy) #1)

Evren

T he words I spoke are razors in my throat.

Each syllable is a fresh cut, a memory made physical.

The silence I built was a tomb. Now, the grave is open.

I came back physically intact, but broken in a way that cannot be fixed.

Not even by her. I know that now. Speaking my secret should’ve lifted a weight, but instead, it is more crushing than ever.

The Grimoire blinks up at us. The single, unholy eye stares up from the floor, a malevolent intelligence that is creepy and tangible.

My gaze shifts to the new staircase, a gaping maw leading into the sub-levels of DarkHallow Academy. The hot air that rises from it smells of judgement, and not the pleasant kind.

I bend, my fingers cold as bone, and pick up the Tenebris Vinculum as Lysithea lets out a warning gasp.

The eye swivels in its leathery socket to look at me.

Judging me, seeing my worth. Or not. It probes the raw wound of my secret, the truth I just bled onto the stone.

It finds the silence I built and the hell that broke it.

It doesn’t hurt. It just… knows.

“What’s it doing?” Lysithea’s voice is a strained whisper.

The grimoire’s pages flutter open. A new line of text appears, scrawled in what looks like fresh blood.

The first test has been passed.

“First test,” Lysithea says. “How many more are there?”

I shrug. I don’t think I want to know.

“Do we go down?” Dathan asks, his uncertainty a blot on the confidence he usually projects.

I stare at the book and nod. It’s the only way to keep moving forward. If we turn back, whatever danger Lysithea is in will grow, and we won’t be able to help her.

She cries out suddenly, and her knees buckle as a wave of pain washes over her from the brand. She pants, her hand hovering over her shoulder.

The brand on my arm flares. My gaze snaps to the Grimoire. Its single, unblinking eye is fixed on her, the pupil dilating slightly. It’s causing her pain. This is the next test. A test of our determination to help her. It’s why we are here after all.

“Make it stop,” she grits out, her knuckles white as she grips her dress.

Dathan takes a step towards her, but Verik holds out an arm, stopping him. “It won’t stop until we move.”

He’s right. This isn’t a choice. It’s a command.

I clutch the Grimoire tighter. The eye swivels back to me. The only way to stop her pain is to give this thing what it wants.

Without a word, I turn and step onto the new staircase. The hot air rushes up to meet me, a furnace blast that smells of old iron and forgotten sins. I take another step down, into the absolute blackness, the book held before me like a lantern. It’s a silent order. Follow me or let her suffer.

I don’t look back. I don’t need to. I feel their decision through the brand, a unified surge of grim acceptance. Footsteps echo behind me, a four-person descent into a hungry, waiting justice. The Grimoire’s eye glows faintly in the dark, lighting our path to whatever fresh hell awaits below.

Lysithea’s pained panting eases behind me, and I breathe out slowly. A blinding flash of light burns my retinas, and I put the book up in front of my face, turning to shield Lysithea from the blast of heated light.

When the darkness returns, I straighten up and turn to face whatever is in front of us that we have to get past.

“Where are we?” Dathan asks, unable to see the scene in front of me.

With a frustrated stamp of my foot, I step aside so they can see that what is in front of us is the courtyard of the academy, above ground, under the moonlight.

“Huh?” Dathan mutters. “What the hell?”

“Great,” Lysithea mutters, shoving me aside and stepping out of the portal onto the old stones, covered in a thin layer of snow. “Fucking great. Thanks for fucking nothing.”

I grasp her hand and pull her closer, shaking my head. This wasn’t for nothing. It was for something, I just don’t know what yet. I wait. It will tell us. I know it will.

The grimoire in my hand is warm. A sick, living heat that feels like a fever against my cold skin. Lysithea pulls against my grip, her anger a tangible force, but she doesn’t break away. She thinks this was a trick. A dead end.

She is wrong.

The single eye on the book’s cover swivels, its gaze leaving me to fix on her. The brand on my arm gives a low thrum. It’s not a threat this time. It’s a connection. A key turning in a lock we didn’t know was there.

The pages of the grimoire flutter open, a dry, rustling sound in the sudden quiet of the courtyard. A new line of text appears, etched in blood that is still wet.

Do as I say and she will live.

I hold the book up for them to see.

“Live?” she says coldly. “And if we don’t, I die? Is that it?”

I nod slowly, hating us for doing this to her.

My reasons for doing this were to get some form of my life back instead of this half-dead existence.

Whether it killed me or elevated me, I didn’t care.

I just wanted to feel something. Now, all I feel is even more self-loathing for putting her in this danger.

Her fury is a glacier. Cold, beautiful, and hiding a crushing weight of fear beneath. “So, we just wait for its next test?”

I nod. Guess so.

“And when might that be?”

“Could be anytime, anywhere,” Verik says. “We should stick together.”

“Fuck you all the way back to your warring dimension,” she growls and then regret flashes over her features. “Sorry,” she mutters, looking away.

“No, that’s fair. But you use my secrets against me, I’ll use yours against you, death siren .”

The jibe hits her hard, and I shove Verik in the chest, hard enough for him to stumble backwards.

“Don’t!” Lysithea cries. “Don’t fight. Please. I can’t take it.”

She stalks off, and we are left with little choice but to follow her.