Page 70

EVE

I was standing. Except that was impossible.

The ground was beneath me, but I didn’t feel it. There was no weight, no breath in my lungs, no pulse in my veins.

Just silence. Cold and absolute.

And then I saw her.

Me .

Sprawled out on the stone, head lolled to the side, face slack. The knife sticking out of my body.

My mind raced, churning through every possibility. It was the only thing I could do, trapped in this strange limbo.

I was on the table. I screamed. I felt the dagger slice into my heart. Felt the pain.

Oh, god. I was dead.

No—I couldn’t be… NO. This wasn’t fair!

But I felt my heart stop. I felt the stutter, like I was choking on air.

I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

And then I heard him.

The sound of Xander’s voice, raw and breaking, pulled me from my spiral.

“I wasn’t supposed to care this much.”

I watched as he stroked my hair. His hands were shaking, ice spreading from his fingertips across my skin.

“I shouldn’t have hesitated. I should’ve told you the truth.”

I moved toward him instinctively, but when I tried to touch his arm, to say something, anything, my hand slipped right through him.

Xander’s breathing hitched, sharp and ragged, and something inside him cracked open—too raw, too real.

Then his hands clenched into fists. His magic flared like a spark off dry kindling—hot and erratic, his body trembling from the force of it. The air around him warped, thickening, energy coiling at his fingertips like wildfire desperate for a spark.

He wasn’t just losing control—he was unraveling.

I should have done something. I should have fought harder. I should have—

Something tugged at my gut, hard.

One second, I was reaching for him. The next—I was yanked backward. My ribs splintered from the force. The room stretched, warping like it was made of shadows and light.

One second, I could see him. His head bowed, his whole body collapsing inward, arms still clutching me.

Then the next, he was gone.

Everything moved too fast—flashes of light, echoes of voices that dissolved before I could make out the words.

Was this dying?

Then—sudden stillness.

It wasn’t like landing, more like everything around me finally stopped moving.

My legs were shaky as I felt the earth reform beneath my feet, cool and smooth.

I looked down, but there was nothing. It was the same in every direction—just endless, oppressive darkness.

I could feel the ground, but it was like floating in a void.

I swallowed, but there was no sound. No echo. No breath.

This place feels wrong. Like I wasn’t supposed to be here. Like nothing was supposed to be here.

My eyes caught a slight glimmer in the darkness, like a faint wisp of pale smoke. It slithered across the darkness, growing, like it was getting closer to me.

At first, it was faint, but the longer I looked at it, the more it seemed to form.

The smoke coalesced, slowly as it bloomed towards me, moving without air. Without life. The wisps floated forward, slow at first, then faster, gaining shape—humanoid, but not. Arms too long. Faces without features. Closing in.

I didn’t feel like I could move. I didn’t even know if the ground beneath my feet stopped or kept going. My pulse should have been hammering, but my chest was still. The dread continued to claw up my throat, locking my muscles as the wisps closed in tighter around me.

I stepped back—or at least I thought I did. I couldn’t feel anything, but the smoke kept closing in from all directions. Just a sliver of shadow reaching for me.

I lifted my hands without thinking—defensive, instinctive.

White-hot fire erupted.

Not comforting.

Not mine.

It burned like ice, sinking deep, gnawing through every nerve like it was carving me from the inside out.

The pain was excruciating, but I couldn’t stop it. The flames continued to rise up my arms, searing, consuming—

Punishing me.

The wisps dissolved around me the moment the fire sparked, but that didn’t feel like relief. I couldn’t feel anything over the cold burn sinking into my bones, burrowing into every fiber of my being.

My muscles seized as the fire licked up my chest. I screamed, the void draining the noise from me as the flames pressed closer. I collapsed, curling in on myself. I felt my skin melting, my lungs choking on the nonexistent smoke.

If I was dead, this was hell.

And hell had teeth.

The fire curled into my ribs, dug deep—burrowed through bone like it was claiming me.

I tried to fight it. I really did. But it was agony.

So I stopped trying.

I closed my eyes—and let it consume me.