Chapter 19
The silence in the destroyed room was deafening.
Taveth lay curled on the bed like a broken child, his breathing finally even as exhaustion claimed him.
The shadows that had been so violent minutes before now seemed to wrap around him protectively, but I could still feel the echo of his darkness through our bond—a constant, poisonous whisper that never truly went quiet.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands shaking as I stared at the destruction around us.
Splintered furniture, shattered glass, books torn to pieces.
But it wasn't the physical damage that had my heart racing—it was the memory of those moments when I'd looked into Taveth's eyes and seen nothing human looking back.
"Livia." Marcus's voice was gentle, but I could hear the tension underneath. "We need to talk."
I didn't want to leave Taveth, didn't want to take my eyes off him in case the darkness came back. But the way my mates were looking at me—protective, angry, concerned—told me this conversation was inevitable.
I looked at Marcus, then at the others who had crowded into the doorway—Antonius with blood on his knuckles from where he'd hit the wall, Sirrax holding his ribs carefully, Jalend pale with shock. They'd all seen what Taveth had become in those moments, all witnessed how close I'd come to...
"I can't leave him," I whispered, my hand hovering over Taveth's shoulder but not quite touching. Even in sleep, the shadows writhed restlessly beneath his skin.
"You can't help him like this either," Tarshi said quietly. He was leaning against the doorframe, his face drawn with exhaustion. Whatever had happened when he'd touched Taveth—when some of that darkness had flowed into him—had clearly taken a toll.
Marcus stepped forward, his expression grave. "Livia, what just happened... that wasn't normal.”
I knew he was right. I'd felt it through the bond—the way the darkness had consumed Taveth so completely that there'd been nothing left of the man I loved.
Just hunger and rage and a terrible, creative desire to cause pain.
Through our bond, I could still feel the shadows lurking at the edges of his consciousness, waiting.
I leaned down and reluctantly pressed a soft kiss to Taveth's temple before standing.
He stirred slightly at my touch but didn't wake, his face finally peaceful in sleep.
The contrast between this vulnerable man and the monster that had held me down minutes ago made my chest ache with complicated emotions I couldn't even begin to untangle.
My body ached where his grip had been, bruises already forming on my wrists and arms, but the physical pain was nothing compared to that.
We moved to the next room where Marcus and Antonius had been sleeping, leaving the door cracked so I could hear if Taveth stirred.
Sirrax moved stiffly and leaned heavily against the wall, one hand pressed to his ribs where he'd hit the stone.
Tarshi sat heavily in one of the few remaining intact chairs, his face pale with exhaustion that I was beginning to understand wasn't entirely his own, and Jalend and Antonius both wearing expressions I couldn't quite read.
I barely dared glance at Septimus whose face was dark with anger, and he was practically shaking with restraining himself.
"Are you hurt?" Sirrax asked immediately, his golden eyes scanning me for injuries. There was dried blood on his temple from where he'd hit the wall, but he seemed more concerned about me than his own wounds.
"I'm fine," I said automatically, then caught the look that passed between them. "Really. I'm fine."
"How long has it been this bad?" Marcus asked. He pulled me down into his lap, holding me close, his dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made me want to look away.
"It's been getting worse since we returned from the scouting mission," I admitted, taking his hand in mine. "But tonight... tonight was the worst I've seen."
"Livia." Tarshi's voice was strained, and when I looked at him, I could see something haunted in his blue eyes. "What he was going to do... what I felt him planning through the bond..."
"He would have raped you," Septimus said bluntly, his voice tight with anger. "If we hadn't arrived when we did—"
"But you did," I interrupted, though my voice shook. "And he didn't. There's still enough of him left to fight it."
"Is there?" Antonius stepped closer, his expression grim. "Because what I saw in there wasn't a man fighting darkness. That was darkness wearing a man's face."
"He's sick," I said defensively. "The shadow magic is consuming him. He can't control it."
"Exactly," Jalend said, as he settled into a chair. "Which is why he's dangerous. To you, to all of us, to everyone in this temple."
The words hit me like a slap, even though I knew they were true. I'd felt it myself—that moment when something else had been looking out through Taveth's eyes, something that wanted to hurt me in ways that went beyond physical pain.
"But he didn't do it," I said firmly. "He stopped. He came back."
"This time," Marcus said quietly. "But what about next time? What happens when you're not there to pull him back?"
"He's losing himself," Antonius said softly. "Whatever this darkness is, it's consuming him piece by piece. And we're powerless to stop it."
"No." The word came out sharper than I intended. "We are not powerless. There has to be something we can do."
"Like what?" Tarshi's voice cracked. "He's my twin brother, and I couldn’t reach him. When I touched him, when I felt even a fraction of what he's carrying..." He shuddered. "It was like staring into an abyss. How is he even still sane?"
"He's not," Marcus said bluntly. "That's the point. The man we know, the man you love—he's disappearing. And what's taking his place is dangerous."
"Don't you think I don't know that?" I snapped, my own fear and frustration finally boiling over. "Don't you think I felt every moment of his madness through our bond? Don't you think I know how close he came to..." I couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't say the words out loud.
"Then you understand why we can't let this continue," Antonius said gently. "We need to find a way to help him, or..."
"Or what?" I demanded. "You'll what, exactly? Lock him up? Kill him? He's one of us. He's family."
“Yes,” snapped Septimus. “If it protects you, then yes. We’ll kill him.”
“Septimus,” I pleaded, knowing the anger in him came only from the pain and frustration he felt at not being able to protect me from this. Or Tarshi either.
"He's a threat," Marcus said, and I could hear the pain in his voice. "We know you care about Taveth, and he’s Tarshi’s brother, and both of those things make him family, makes him part of this. But our first responsibility is to you. And if he's becoming something that could hurt you..."
"He won't hurt me," I said, but the words sounded hollow even to my own ears.
"He almost did," Septimus pointed out. "If you hadn't been able to reach him, if that connection between him and Tarshi hadn't somehow helped..."
I looked at Tarshi, remembering that strange moment when the shadows had flickered toward him. "What was that? What happened when you touched him?"
Tarshi shook his head, looking confused and shaken. "I don't know. I felt... pulled toward him. Like I could take some of his burden. But it was too much. Whatever's inside him, it's bigger than anything I can handle."
"But you helped," I pressed. "You eased the pressure somehow."
"Barely," he said. "And I couldn't hold it for more than a few seconds. He's carrying something massive, Livia. Something that's eating him alive from the inside."
The weight of helplessness crashed over me.
Here was this man I loved more than life itself, slowly being consumed by darkness, and there was nothing any of us could do to save him.
The healers couldn't help. Magic couldn't touch it.
We were all just standing by, watching him disappear piece by piece.
"There has to be something," I said desperately. "Some answer, some cure, something."
"The elders," Marcus said quietly, and something in his tone made me look up. "Taveth told you that they've been researching this for generations. Maybe they've found something new."
"They would have told him," I said, but even as I spoke, doubt crept in. Would they? Or would they keep potential solutions to themselves if it meant risking their most powerful weapon?
"Would they?" Antonius echoed my thoughts. "Think about it, Livia. Taveth is their strongest shadow mage. In a war like this, losing him would be devastating to their cause."
"So they'd let him suffer?" The idea made my stomach turn.
"Let him fight until couldn't," Sirrax said grimly. "Seen it. Powerful assets used until they break."
I felt sick. Was that all Taveth was to them? A weapon to be wielded until it shattered? But then I thought of Aytara, of the genuine affection I'd seen in her eyes when she looked at him. Surely, she wouldn't...
"We need to talk to them," I said firmly. "Demand answers. If there's even a chance of helping him—"
"And if there isn't?" Marcus asked gently. "If this is truly inevitable, what then?"
The question hung in the air like a blade. I couldn't answer it because I couldn't accept it.
“I’m not giving up,” I said, anger starting to build in my chest, replacing the fear.
“Livia…”
"No." The word came out with more force than I intended, cutting through whatever Marcus had been about to say. "I'm not giving up on him. I don't care what any of you think about the risks or the danger or how far gone he seems. He's my mate, and I will not abandon him."
"Even if he hurts you?" Septimus's voice was raw with barely controlled emotion. "Even if next time we're not fast enough to stop him?"
I met his gaze steadily, seeing the fear and love warring in his dark eyes. "Yes. Even then."