Chapter 31 #2
The golden script trembled, then came to a standstill.
Golden illustrations in the book faded, the last image of the burning banners dissolving back into inert, swirling script.
Above Lovell’s head, the cloud of symbols collapsed, pouring back into the cracked onyx crystal until the last spark of brightness vanished.
He set the stone back on the desk with a soft click.
I stared at the now-dark crystal. Processing. Finally, I forced the words out. “So, he knew. The other Evan. He knew that if he died, I would replace his soul using the crystal?”
Lovell’s manic magic evaporated, and he slumped into his chair, the golden fire in his eyes fading back to that exhausted darkness. He steepled his fingers again, the very picture of a shrewd negotiator.
“Ah,” he said, his voice returning to its flat monotone. “That. What I have provided is history. The context. The debt to Adam Blanke is, as of this moment, paid in full.”
“I want to know.” I pushed myself forward, planting my palms flat on the dusty desk.
“That woman, Mordaine, she said my mother in this world is alive. The other Evan’s mother resembles mine.
I have to know. I have to know if I can save her.
And I need to know how to use this magic so I don’t get us killed again. ”
Lovell tapped the broken crystal. “That is new information. But I am a collector of rarities, and you, twin-soul, are the rarest thing I have ever encountered. So, I will give you the rest. I will unlock the memories he trapped in the stone.”
“What’s the price?” Gregory growled, his hand tightening on mine until my bones ached.
“Not from you, Unholy Alpha.” Lovell dismissed him. “The price is a new debt. A blank favor owed by you, twin-soul, to be called in at my leisure, for whatever service I require. No questions, no refusals.”
“Never,” Gregory snarled, and wrenched me to my feet alongside him. “We’re leaving. A debt to a trickster such as him is a death sentence.”
“No.” I twisted from his grip, the last of my patience snapping.
I pinned Gregory with a stare, my frustration boiling over.
“What’s the problem? Are you afraid of what I’ll find in there?
” I jabbed a finger toward the crystal. “Afraid I’ll discover something I don’t like and…
What? Change my mind about you? About this fevered nightmare medieval world? ”
Gregory raked his fingers through his dark hair, gripping the strands so hard his knuckles went white.
“Yes,” he bit out. “I’m afraid that you’ll see the monster he knew.
That you’ll be afraid of me again. That he did not go in peace.
” He dropped his voice, letting it fill with a pain that mirrored my own.
“That you won’t be… you. My sweet Evan.”
The words lodged in my throat, a painful lump I couldn’t swallow. Tears burned behind my eyelids, blurring his desperate face.
He closed the small space between us, locking me into a crushing hug and burying his face in my hair.
I clutched the front of his tunic, my own resolve hardening.
“You have to trust me,” I whispered into his chest. “I’m not him.
I won’t change.” I straightened enough to find his eyes.
“You’re my beast, right? The one who protects me? I need to do this. For me. For my mom.”
He trembled as he leaned down, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my forehead and another to the bridge of my nose. He brushed his rough thumbs against my skin to wipe away my tears. After a moment, he directed his words over my head at the binder. “Do it. But if you harm him…”
“I am well aware of what you are, Unholy Alpha,” Lovell cut in, his flat tone void of any real fear. “No need for the posturing.”
I turned in Gregory’s hold to face the mage, needing to make this binding. I took a steadying breath and spoke clearly. “I accept the terms, Lovell. The favor is yours.”
Lovell shuffled around the massive desk, his movements still sluggish. He stopped in front of me, his tired eyes inspecting my face. “This will be… unpleasant.”
He lifted one grubby finger, and the tip of it brushed my forehead.
His touch triggered a sickening drop, as if the floor had vanished, and my body seized instantly. A high-pitched whine tore through my ears, drowning out the library and Lovell’s smirk until the room dissolved into nothing but static.
Then the images came as a violent, high-speed assault, dragging me backward into the past. The metallic, briny taste of the lake water choking me. The agonizing pressure in my lungs as they begged for air. Bubbles… Cold… Sinking…
Rewind.
The sickening, wet crunch of my skull on the muddy shore. The searing, blistering agony of Gregory’s hand branding my throat. Monster… Pain… Run…
Rewind.
The stinging, echoing snap of bone as Mordaine’s boot crushed my fingers. Her purple eyes glowing with hate. “Coward… you’ll pay…”
Further back.
A flash of a burning city. Fire. Screams. My mother—no, his mother—falling to the cobblestones. “GO!”
Deeper still.
The images stopped their violent rewinding, freezing on a single moment before the torrent of his life—his failure—poured into me.
His crushing, endless solitude. It multiplied my own loneliness, feeding on it.
My decades of emptiness found its twin, and they merged into a physical, suffocating weight.
The rejection. Gregory’s back, over and over. The coldness. The endless, hopeless pining. Two years of being a ghost, invisible to the one person he craved.
And then, the final memory. The desperate ritual. Evan pouring his life, his magic, his very essence into the onyx stone. An anchor. A trade. A way out.
“Make it stop!” I shrieked, my voice shredding. I clawed at my chest, tearing at the fabric of my mantle. “Make it stop!”
My whole body arched off the floor in a violent spasm, drowning in his sorrow and despair.
Through the agony, a different sensation broke through. Gregory gripped my arms, holding me steady. He surrounded me with his scent. “What? What is it? What do I stop?”
“It hurts,” I sobbed, grabbing blindly at his tunic.
He tightened his grip, refusing to let go. “I’m here, Evan. I’m right here. Stay with me.”
He was the only solid thing in the storm, and I clung to him. His warmth pressed against my side. His breath brushed my hair. He wouldn’t let go. The flood of images stuttered, slowed, and eventually faded, leaving me trembling and empty on the cold floor.
The room gradually became clearer, each moment sharper than the last. Tears rolled down my face, hot against my cold skin. I tilted my head back, my neck aching, and watched Lovell pick up a worn, leather-bound suitcase from beside his chair. He flipped up the latches and opened the case.
A strange, sucking whoosh filled the space as the nearest bookshelf dissolved into a stream of paper flowing directly into the suitcase. Then the next. And the next. The candelabras. The desk. The scrolls. The entire cathedral of paper folded in on itself, swallowed by the suitcase.
Lovell snapped it shut, and the vast library was gone.
He reached into his pocket and retrieved a crystal, clear and faceted like a diamond. “The finest debtors are always the Conduits,” he mused. “Give my thanks to Stella, twin-soul.”
My breath hitched at my mom’s name. Lovell was the reason they made it out. He was the jester who helped Evan and Mom escape the Empire.
He crushed the crystal in his fist, and a tear in reality—a shimmering, jagged hole—opened beside him. He gave us a final, creepy smile and stepped through it. The portal snapped shut, leaving us alone in the total suffocating darkness of the now-empty room.