Chapter 51
“Lunara!”
She ignored the insistent wail, too taken with what lay before her.
The Veil stretched out, promising an eternity of solitude. She wasn’t sure how she knew where she was and she couldn’t be bothered to care. She’d never expected it to be so deep and vast. So lovely.
If only that voice would quiet down and leave her be.
Ghostly blue shadows enveloped her, whispering for her to follow. Their luminescent presence offered a peaceful temptation she was loathe to ignore. Her footsteps glowed behind her as she trailed them, brightening with each step she took towards the onyx chasm in the distance.
“Lunara!”
There it was again, that infernal screeching denying her the rest she sought.
The sound of it competed with the lulling voices of the Veil, tickling something on the edges of her memory, but the spirits ahead were so sweet in their coaxing as they beckoned her to join them. To revel in the dark joy of death.
She finally reached the edge of the abyss and dared a glance down. Souls swarmed in its depths, the dance of their eternity enticing her beyond reason. A soft laugh left her lips as she readied for the jump.
“Are you supposed to be here? You don’t seem like you are, and I know I’m blimmin’ not. It doesn’t feel right.”
The rasping, unfamiliar voice drew her up short, poised one step from the edge of that final oblivion. Confused, she spun towards the speaker.
She knew that gorgeous face, but why?
It jarred her to see it, recognition trying to bloom but stunted by the encroaching darkness.
“Hold on, Lunara. Please, witchling, don’t you bloody go there. Hold on for me.”
That anguished sound stopped her, too. Lunara. She knew the word, but why didn’t she know what it meant anymore?
How long had she been here? Her memory was twisted, like it had been both centuries and seconds, time warping around her.
Lunara. Lunara… Luna?
A disjointed memory flashed within her, the impression of auburn hair brushing her cheek as a gravelly voice—a different voice—whispered that name into her ear with the utmost reverence.
Luna. Little moon.
The vision grabbed hold and tempted her to turn back, forced her to remember this wasn’t how it should be happening. There was supposed to be a rough hand holding hers, going with her, a shy smile urging her on.
The female that had spoken crouched at the edge, sifting black sand through her fingers.
“You’re not supposed to be here?”
Her head snapped up. “I know your voice. You’re the one…”
“I know your face.”
Knew the deep bronze of her skin and that lavender mass of curls. She knew it, but why?
“I think you’re right. I… don’t think this is where I’m meant to be, either.”
“You’ve got that fucking straight, mate.” She stood, verdant wings of gossamer fluttering out behind her when she threw her arms out. “How are you supposed to help me if we’re both in this cunting wasteland?”
“Help… you?”
It hit like a violent tidal wave, images and memory crashing over her.
She was Lunara, and she definitely wasn’t supposed to fucking be here.
Neither was Fern.
She lunged forward and grasped the Fae’s hand.
“LUNARA!”
On a gasp, she regained her consciousness. Every inch of her hurt—a throbbing, all-consuming pain working to disconnect her mind from her body. She blinked against it, all of her energy directed towards trying to focus.
A salty breeze blew through absolute carnage, swirling the sienna dust as it settled into the chaos of shattered glass and crumbled stone.
She watched, panic blooming, as the tiny specks landed on her skin like red mist, seamlessly joining the steady flow of blood leaving her from countless lacerations.
She snapped her gaze around the room, unable to reconcile the scene before her.
It was the stars shining innocently above, unimpeded, that shocked her out of her confusion. A scream of denial lodged itself in her throat as she railed silently against what her eyes were showing her.
The massive glass dome that should’ve been crowning the tower was instead all around her, on top of her, in her.
No, no, no.
“Help me clear it. Pet can sense her wee heart beating, but she’s barely bloody alive. She hasn’t got much time.”
Lunara registered shouting and wails in the distance as she became more aware, muffled somewhat by a string of harsh curses nearby.
Bricks shifted and collapsed across the room where the door should’ve been, tattooed skin and blond hair flashing before disappearing into the chaos once more.
She tried to form words, to call for help so he’d know where she was, but nothing would come.
More swearing sounded to the tune of crunching glass beneath heavy footfalls before a massive windowpane was at last lifted from her chest and tossed aside.
“Ah shite, witchling.” Magnus reached down to clear more debris away and knelt beside her. “I’m sorry for this next part.”
His eyes never left hers as his arms banded around her broken body, forcing a strangled whimper to push itself past dry lips when he lifted her from the floor.
“We’ll not find him here amongst all this, will we lass?” he rasped, eyes brimming with the same tears she felt pouring from her own.
She barely stomached the answering shake of her head. Tears broke free of his blond lashes and cut rivers through the grime clinging to his cheeks and beard.
“Aye, I thought not. I can’t feel him anymore. Not nearby, at least.”
A sob slipped free, her chest constricting with his words.
Neither could she.
He’s just… gone?
“Shh, I know, Lunara. I know,” he choked out. “Let’s get you safe and worry about the rest later, aye?”
Magnus clambered over the debris of the fallen tower and stumbled onto the winding staircase, down into the castle where Demons she couldn’t name rushed forward to meet them. He refused to let them pry her from his arms, trudging through the massive corridors until he reached her guest chamber.
No. No. No.
One second they’d been together, wrapped up in each other’s bodies exactly as they should have been, and next he was being ripped away from her in shadowed clutches.
She’d tried to fight. Sisters, how she’d tried.
She wanted to thrash, to scream. She wasn’t meant to be in the Veil, but she wasn’t meant to be here either, back in her room with—
“Fern,” she wheezed. “Fern.”
“Aye, it’s alright. I’ll check on her soon as you’re settled.”
There would be no such thing as settled. Not as long as he was gone.
Not real. Not real. You aren’t even here. It’s not real.
She hated how comforting the sound of herself was, emerging once more to protect her. She’d been utterly content for the first time in so long, and it had finally let her be. So long it had let her be. But now—
Maybe you didn’t see what you saw. Maybe it’s just another nightmare.
She looked for something to be wrong. To find a door that shouldn’t be there, or a white flash in the corner of her vision.
“It didn’t happen,” she choked. “It can’t have happened, Magnus.”
“Lunara…” Despair laced his tone as he passed the sitting area and fireplace.
He laid her on the downy mattress that wasn’t supposed to be hers anymore, and she lost all control.
“No.” The last dregs of her magic flooded to the surface with nauseating suddenness. “No, no, no, no, no!” Her wail shook the walls.
Raw power shot forth from her body and knocked Magnus clear across the chamber and into the fireplace mantle. She should’ve been mortified but, as the last ounce drained and the blinding prismatic light died away, Lunara had nothing left within her. No energy. No feeling.
Just a gaping hole where her heart should be.
Magnus approached her carefully with one arm stretched out, like he was trying to soothe a wild animal. He only paused for a moment before, as gently as a male his size could, he eased his body onto the mattress and perched himself beside her.
“Calm yourself, witchling,” Magnus whispered as he swept hair from her face. “Let me help you.”
“What’s the point if he’s gone?” she croaked.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and pinned her with a look of utter desolation.
“Let me do this, Lunara. Please,” his voice hitched. “For him.”
She didn’t bother to reply as he plucked a small knife from his belt, swiping the blade across his wrist with no thought for himself.
She tried to force her shattered limbs to work so she could turn away and ignore what was being offered, but a drop of his blood splashed onto the blanket beside her and she froze, her eyes latching onto the stain.
In that moment, Lunara truly hated herself. Hated the gnawing, overwhelming hunger. The way her body betrayed her and somehow leaned towards him, too concerned with healing itself to remember her spine was broken and she wasn’t supposed to have to take the blood gift of anyone other than him.
Hate yourself later. Just take it and sleep. At least then, you won’t remember it might be your fault.
Disgusted by her weakness, she closed her eyes against the swirling guilt and tried not to gag as her fangs sank into the wrong flesh. Her mind emptied and darkness encroached on her vision.
A verdant flash, and then she was lost.
Magnus backed away from the bed and made for the door, his heart cracked in two.
—We’ll find him, Maggie—
Aye, Pet, but it’s not only Brand I’m worried about.
—Our sister is strong—
He knew that. He did. But Mag wasn’t sure he’d seen a body as broken as that on someone still living. Not even Baldrir. He didn’t understand how she was breathing at all. Fuck, he didn’t know how any of them had made it through the night.
—You’ll need to gather the family again. Their blood is potent enough. It’ll work—
Not for a whole city.
“Shite.”
Pet perked up within and wrenched his senses to the surface, his own head turning. Something was here.
His hackles went up just before a petite pair of arms came whipping around his neck swift as lightning, and a set of teeth sank into one of his ears.
“Weeping fuck!” he shouted as they yanked.