Chapter Forty #2
The pressure hits harder, pushing against my skin, trying to drive me down.
I hold my ground and reach for it. The chaos answers, and I know now that I can win.
Not because I’m stronger, but because I’m not constrained by the laws they hold on to, even when the rest of the world has outgrown them.
I catch the force of it, tear it apart, and throw it wide with a grin on my face.
Fire stutters before it reaches Theo. Power fractures before it can strike Gwyneth, and the space around her steadies, the chant holding.
The female Idol strides closer, all of her attention on Nash. She does not strike again. She draws a dagger from a sheath on her thigh and cuts her palm. “Enough,” she shouts, her blood saturating the air, pulsating in time with the magic Gwyneth weaves.
The word lands inside him, and his body jerks. His shoulders lock, his head dropping as his shadows falter, then turn, pulling toward the rising blood instead of holding the line. “No,” he snarls.
The pressure around him builds, and the serpent at her feet slithers toward us, fangs bared.
It slides across the marble and wraps around Nash’s legs before climbing, tightening as it goes.
His shadows recoil, forced inward, held in place instead of spreading.
His breath stutters when the restraint takes hold, his control slipping as the coil tightens around him.
“Nash,” I plead, torn. I can’t move. If I leave Gwyneth, the chant breaks.
If the chant breaks, we lose. He lifts his head, his gaze finding mine.
For a split tempo he is there, present and fighting.
Then the pull returns, and his shadows surge again.
Instead of circling us, they target the blood Gwyneth is working into a frenzy.
His body shifts forward before he locks himself in place, every muscle straining while he fights against it. His hands curl, his jaw clenched as the urge rises inside him.
“Don’t,” I say, holding his gaze.
His eyes bleed to black, and his restraint breaks.
His shadows snap free of the serpent’s hold and surge forward, no longer guarding us, no longer holding the line, no longer under his control.
They have been hijacked by the Idol and her serpent servant.
They drive toward the blood, toward the power rising between Gwyneth’s hands.
My eyes widen, and my chaos reorganizes all my thoughts into one purpose.
“Fuck,” Hart snarls. He breaks the circle and dashes toward Nash with his blade raised, not in protection, but in execution. An agreement I was never told about settles into place.
No. Adrenaline courses through my veins, and I throw myself between them just as Hart’s sword comes down.
My breath catches at the pain shredding my nerves when the blade drives deep into my back.
My knees give out, and I grab onto Nash’s shoulders, holding us in place while his shadows lash around us.
“Stop,” I force out through the blood bubbling up my throat. “Not yet.”
The room spins, icy coldness spreading through my body. Nash grabs my hips to steady me when my feet slip, no longer able to hold me up. “Daphne, what have you done?”
Sir Sweeps-A-Lot hovers above me, trying to figure out how to fix this. There is no fixing though.
Hart appears to the side of us, my blood dripping from his blade and his mouth hanging open. I don’t have the strength to speak through the pain, so I force my mind to communicate with reassurance.
It’s a flesh wound.
It’s not.
I’ll be fine.
Unlikely.
You are worth everything.
Truth.
“What did you do?” Malachi roars. Theo backs that up with a rage of fire hotter than any I’ve ever known.
“No,” Gwyneth cries.
“Finish it,” I beg her.
Her voice cracks as she does as I ask. The chant rises.
“Make a wish,” Genie demands. “Damn the consequences.”
I shake my head and keep hold of Nash. “It’s okay,” I tell him, trying to hold us both together. Hot tears drip onto my cheeks, but they aren’t mine. They’re his.
The blood threads snap into alignment, and the gold sigil bearing down on Gwyneth shatters as the spell completes. The pull shifts, no longer outward, no longer loose, but focused, directed.
The Idols react too late. Their power tears free, driving into me all at once, forcing a cry from my throat as it floods through my body, too much, too fast, more than I can hold. It burns through every part of me, threatening to break me apart under the weight of it.
My grip tightens on Nash. “Now,” I gasp, forcing the word out through the pain. “Give in.”
The paint from the ceiling breaks free and swirls toward me, absorbing beneath my flesh, every beginning, every ending, every wound, every joy. It burns. My bones crack and reform.
The Idol reflecting a thousand sharp faces moves. Not toward me. Not toward Nash. Toward Gwyneth. Power gathers in his hand, a wicked grin gracing his lips. He drives forward, aimed straight for the center of the blood bound tight, for the one holding it together.
It is clean and direct, meant to end with a single strike.
My gaze widens, and my hand reaches out.
Charming doesn’t hesitate as he steps in front of her with his blade raised, an extension of Excalibur answering the call to defend.
The impact throws him back a step, the force of it driving through him as the power breaks against the sword and spills into his body instead.
He grunts, his knee hitting the marble, his free hand pressing against his side as blood seeps between his fingers. “Do it,” he forces out, lifting his head and meeting my gaze. “I’ve got her.”
Gwyneth’s panicked gaze wavers between us. I have my knights. Look after your prince.
Nash’s hands tighten on me. His head drops to my shoulder, his breath uneven as the power continues to tear through me. I clutch his head and hold him close. His fangs descend without warning or pause, sinking into my neck.
Pain flares, sharp and immediate, but it is nothing compared to what follows. The power inside me shifts, dragged toward him, pulled from my veins as he devours it. It does not flow cleanly. It fights, tearing through both of us as he forces it out of me and into himself.
My body weakens, and I feel him slow, getting ready to pull away, but he hasn’t taken nearly enough.
“Nash,” I breathe. My legs fail, and warmth seeps down my back from the wound. He holds me tighter. “Don’t stop.”
The pull grows stronger as the Idols’ power continues to pour into me with an unrelenting flow, even as he takes it. It burns through what remains, pushing past what he can siphon, pushing me closer to the edge.
My vision dims as he feeds, his grip the only thing keeping me standing as the life drains from me faster than he can save it.
Around us, Gwyneth chants, this time to release the power back to the realm where it has always belonged.
I’m dying. Not for the greater good, but for something greater. Him. And I would do it over and over again. There’s only one thing left, and he needs to take that too.
“That’s enough,” Theo snaps. “It’s done, brother.”
When did he change back?
I shake my head. It’s not enough to give them the construct; they need the freedom that comes from chaos. And that never resided with the Idols—it’s inside of me.
“You can’t stop,” I tell him. “Take it all, Nash. Free everyone. No more cages. This is my gift.”
Nash stills. I feel it before I see it. The shift in him is sharp, a line drawn between what he has taken and what remains. His mouth lifts from my neck, his breath ragged against my skin, his hands tightening on me as though he is holding me together by force alone.
“No,” he growls.
“You have to,” I say, forcing the words through a throat that feels like it’s closing. My hand finds his face, my thumb dragging across his cheek, catching the wet heat there. “It’s not done.”
“It is enough,” he snaps, his voice breaking. “I won’t take more.”
“You will.” I hold his gaze, forcing him to stay with me even though everything inside me dims. “Taking their power isn’t enough. You have to break the chains that bind it.”
His head shakes, his grip tightening, his body braced as if he can anchor me here by will alone. “I refuse to lose you.”
A small breath leaves me, something close to a laugh but without the strength to carry it. “You already chose me once,” I say, my voice softer now, steadier than I feel. “Now I choose you. Remember what brought me back to you.”
Understanding lands in his eyes. The knights rage around us. Behind him, Gwyneth’s voice rises, no longer holding the spell in place, but releasing it. The sound cuts through everything, clear and certain, carrying the power outward, away from us, into the realm that has been waiting for it.
The ceiling fractures, the painted stories tearing free as stone cracks and falls.
The walls split, gold veins ripping loose and collapsing as the space shifts into something broken and unfinished.
The structure that once held the Idols begins to fall, piece by piece, until it stands as something else entirely—the tower from my dream.
No longer a warning, it’s the symbol of a new era.
The Idols’ presence fades as the power leaves them, stripped of the hold they have had for so long.
I never take my eyes off Nash. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. Now take it,” I breathe, my fingers curling against his jaw. “All of it.”
He closes his eyes for a single beat before giving in.
His fangs sink into my neck again, deeper this time, his hold on me tightening as he takes what remains.
It hurts, but it is distant now, fading beneath something else, something quieter.
The pull inside me shifts and empties, leaving behind a hollow that spreads through my chest, limbs, and thoughts.
Gwyneth’s voice carries the last of the power away, and the weight inside me disappears. My body gives. Nash’s arm wraps around me, pulling me tight against him as if he can stop what has already begun.
“Stay with me,” he says, the words rough, desperate. “Daphne, stay with me.”
I try. I really do. But the world slips. Sound dulls. The pain fades. The pressure, the chaos, the constant pull beneath my ribs, all of it quiets in a way it never has before.
So this is what peace feels like. I don’t think I like it.
The stars beckon, comets fly beneath my eyelids, and worlds turn.
Is the universe ready for my chaos? Because this is not the end. I have faith.
Something warm touches my skin.
It spreads from the center of my chest, soft and steady, pushing against the emptiness that has taken hold. The quiet shifts, something unfamiliar settling into the space left behind.
My breath drags in, the air burning my lungs. Pain follows. My eyes open to a blur of faces, of light fractured through broken stone, of a sky where a ceiling once stood.
Nash is there, his hands on me, his gaze locked onto mine as if he has not moved, not breathed, not dared to exist without watching me.
“You’re not allowed to do that,” he says, his voice low and strained.
I blink, trying to pull the world into focus.
Gwyneth is beside him, her face streaked with tears, her hands clenched.
Hart stands just behind, his expression wrecked, his sword gone slack at his side.
Malachi and Theo hover close, both watching me as though I might disappear again if they look away.
Stan stands at my feet, head lowered toward my chest, his muzzle close to the fatal wound. I knew they ate people. Why is no one stopping him?
My mouth opens in awe as two drops of shimmering liquid fall from his eyes and splash onto my chest. Understanding settles.
“You were an observer,” I rasp, my voice rough.
He huffs softly, a sound that feels like approval. “You earned the right to remain,” he says. “And you cannot perish while you are loved, Stone Sister.”
Genie blinks as if he forgot everything that enabled me to be back here in the first place.
I draw in another breath, testing it, feeling it settle.
Alive. The word lands, heavy and bright all at once.
My gaze shifts between the gang, taking in the worry, the relief, the anger that hasn’t faded yet.
But I gave everything to the power, so what remains of me?
Who is Daphne Stone-Stirling without the disaster that threatens her every step?
“Am I normal?” I wonder.
There is a pause, then a chunk of the broken ceiling gives way and drops straight toward us. Nash swears, pulling me aside as it crashes into the marble where I had been lying, shards scattering across the floor.
I stare at it, then back at them. “That wasn’t me,” I point out.
A broken laugh escapes Gwyneth, sharp and wet, as she presses her hand to her mouth.
I push myself up, Nash’s hands hovering over me as though he expects me to fall apart again. My body aches since it’s not quite healed yet, but it holds.
The temple, however, does not. Stone continues to fall around us, the once perfect structure reduced to fractured walls and open sky.
The tower stands in ruins, just as I saw it.
Only this time, we’re still standing and there is, I’m glad to report, a distinct lack of bodies. No, wait, there they are. Who died?
I stumble and stare in disbelief at the battered remains of the Idols who refused to welcome in the new era. And for that, they paid the ultimate price.
Something catches my eye. Half-buried beneath a fallen tile, a glint of silver reflects the light. I move toward it before anyone can stop me, crouching down and brushing the debris aside until my fingers close around the cool shard.
And now, a promise kept.
I rise, turning back to them. To my knights. To my sister. To the genie who watched me die again. To the unicorn who brought me back. To the broom attempting to clean the remains of a destroyed temple.
I grab its handle and shake my head. “Our work is done. The world is meant to be messy. Rest.”
The chaos hums beneath my skin.
The world has changed, belonging only to those brave enough to claim it.