Chapter 38 #3
“That’s the plan, isn’t it? Recreating that prison?” I ask Inakr. Even without him mentioning how he plans to get rid of Malakai, with killing not being an option, another prison is all that remains.
“Mal told me that both Yblis and an angel created the original. Meaning that if you want to recreate it, you need both demonic and angelic blood. If you could have done it with only your mixed blood, you wouldn’t need Nagamaru.”
Inakr’s subtle shift behind Nagamaru tells me I’m onto something.
“Which means mixed isn’t good enough on its own. Perhaps the demonic blood even needs to be related to Malakai to replicate the use of his brother’s blood?”
Inakr’s jaw ticks, confirming I’m right. Yet the affirmation does nothing to calm my racing heart. Not while the vines continue to be torn to pieces behind me. Not while my magic groans under the assault. I don’t have much longer.
A bead of sweat rolls down my back, and my leg muscles tighten, readying me to run—for Inakr and Nagamaru or the hell away from here. I don’t know.
“He needs you, Naga. He can’t pull it off without your blood, without your magic. But the thing is—he doesn’t care whether he locks up only one of us or both. So tell me—”
Nagamaru knows what I mean to say, and it’s clear Inakr does as well. His lilac-gray eyes spit fire, and his wings emerge, ready to take off with Nagamaru in tow. Willingly or not, when the vines come down, he’ll take both of them out of here.
“Tell me, which one of us is more likely to lie?” I attempt to keep my voice light, but I’m not sure if Inakr picks up on the slight tremble. His eyes reveal nothing but a burning rage, and his wings are spread wide behind him, coiled tight with tension, ready to take flight.
I try to ignore it and focus solely on Nagamaru.
They’re the only one who matters right now.
This is no longer just about getting the collar removed; it’s about ensuring that Inakr can’t lock us up again.
That means Nagamaru needs to see that they will gain nothing from their deal with the Nephilim.
“Malakai and I will be together, either here or there. At least here, you have a chance.” The flicker in Nagamaru’s eyes suggests they are starting to grasp the truth behind my words. “At least here, you won’t lose me again.”
Nagamaru’s mint-green eyes glint with malice.
Suddenly, Inakr pulls away from them with an agonizing scream, and Nagamaru deftly steps out of reach from the writhing Nephilim.
Horror paints my face as I witness what’s happening: They’re using their bone magic to break Inakr’s wings, the bones twisting at unnatural angles.
Each snap is deafening, cutting through the chaos around us.
To his credit, Inakr stands firm through what must be excruciating pain.
“You’re a fool,” he spits at Nagamaru, panting heavily. “For believing a single word she says. She’ll never let you touch her again.”
“Yeah, well.” Nagamaru’s voice betrays no remorse. In that moment, they seem eerily familiar to their father—so much so that I have to actively blink the image away.
“Why should I gamble over the only person I’ve ever wanted? I might be obsessed”—they grin at Inakr, the sight of it tightening my chest—“but I’m not stupid. I’ve always known that if it came down to it, you would cut me loose. So allow me to be the one to do so. You’re on your own.”
Turning to me, they wear a stern expression as they pull me against their chest. My breath hitches in confusion for a moment. A moment is all it takes before I’m ready to slap them, my hand already raised.
Nagamaru catches my wrist before I can act, their eyes softening as they take me in. “I will be back to make good on that half-assed promise, pet.”
They lean in and place a soft kiss on my lips.
My body tenses under the touch, my arm straining to free itself from their hold.
They just chuckle against my lips, amusement undeniable.
Then the collar clicks open and falls to the ground.
Nagamaru steps away from me with a mischievous smile, clearly pleased with themselves.
Suddenly, the vines shatter, and zombies begin to flood in.
“Nagamaru!” Inakr yells as they start to leave. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Away from here, you dipshit.” Nagamaru flips the Nephilim off without looking back, their other hand magically pushing the zombies away to clear a path. “Have fun.”
“Elly!” Malakai’s voice sounds muffled, but there’s no mistaking the twinge of panic in the way he calls out to me.
I quickly turn around but can’t find him amidst the horde. Now that the collar no longer constrains me, my magic starts to return. It fights against Nagamaru’s venom, but it’s not enough—not yet. The little bit that’s already replenished isn’t sufficient.
I manage to swat some of the zombies away, but I won’t be able to take them out like this.
Keeping them at a distance isn’t enough if they keep coming.
Even that strains my energy, slowing everything down: the replenishing of my magic, the healing, and the fighting.
It’s too much all at once. My lips and chin tremble as I assess the situation, fighting the urge to give up.
This is bad. Really bad.
“Make them stop,” I snarl at Inakr, trying to mask the tinge of panic in my voice.
There’s no bark to my bite, and he can tell. The cruel smile on his face confirms it. The Nephilim stands rooted in place, his wings hanging lifelessly behind him. The look on his face, accentuated by that smile, tells me he’s far from inclined to help us.
From a distance, William approaches, and Inakr actually flinches at the sight of him. It’s as if he forgot the First Son is no longer under his control. Then Malakai’s magic brushes over my skin. He’s coming for me, knowing I won’t be able to do this alone—that I need him by my side.
Even though warmth fills me at his presence, there’s a twinge of embarrassment at needing to be rescued again. I grit my teeth to keep the emotion at bay, telling myself I could have held my own if it hadn’t been for that damned collar.
“Shit,” Inakr curses when he sees both Malakai and William approach him. He starts to back away, frantically searching for an escape without his wings.
I try to reach the Nephilim, but he redirects the horde to come for me instead.
My pulse races as they aim directly for me, but without my magic, there’s no way for me to stop them or even slow them down.
All I can do is turn and attempt to run, but the first one grabs me before I can take a single step.
I go down hard, biting my lip when I hit the dirt, blood flooding my mouth, only worsening from my racing pulse.
Scrambling back up, my whole body strains from exhaustion.
Then the rest of them are upon me in seconds.
They jump from all directions, tripping me and dragging me back down.
A terrified scream escapes my lips as I find myself powerless against them, fear-driven panic overwhelming me.
Malakai’s magic reacts as he senses my distress, but there’s nothing he can do.
Within moments, I disappear under a pile of foul-smelling undead. Their fingers clamp down on my skin, and their teeth pierce my flesh. Another scream leaves my lips. The zombies tug and tear at me. I scream again and again with every piece they rip away.
I cover my face with my arms, flinching away every time pain burns through me.
All I can hear is the sound of my heartbeat thrashing in my ears.
The clattering of their teeth and the tearing of my flesh sound almost dull in the background.
My magic still isn’t strong enough to stop them—let alone heal me while they continue their assault.
In a flash, I wonder if perhaps this is how I’ll finally die, with so little magic running through my veins.
The dry metallic scent of my own blood fills my nostrils. It mingles with the stench of rotting meat and fruit emanating from the zombies piled on top of me. I’m about ready to vomit. If their weight doesn’t crush me, the scent surely will.
I struggle to focus what little magic I have to throw them off, but I’m exhausted. The pain from their gnashing teeth leaves me unable to concentrate. They’re too heavy, and there are too many of them. I hear Inakr laugh, and his wings twitch as they slowly heal.
Darkness descends as the horde completely blocks my view. I struggle, but I’m pinned down, unable to move even a finger. It becomes hard to breathe, and panic claws at my chest. My whole body trembles from the continued onslaught. My screams become shrill yelps as my voice breaks.
The pressure of so many bodies crushing me makes my pulse spike, and a sense of claustrophobia sets in. My panic morphs into something uncontrollable as it becomes too much to handle—the musty air I’m breathing, the darkness surrounding me.
Hysteria takes over.
There are so many of them pressing down on me that breathing becomes strained. My heart beats frantically against my chest. The faint sounds filtering through the wriggling bodies start to fade away.
Then there’s nothing but silence. Complete and utter silence.
My ragged, panicked breathing is the only sound around me, easily becoming overwhelming and adding to my growing hysteria. I almost start to wish I could die, just to escape this.
I don’t know how long I remain entombed like this.
I do know that my body is slowly being crushed under their weight.
Unable to ground myself, I lose track of time, my mind feeling heavy—numb.
It’s as if my body starts to shrink into itself, slowly disappearing.
Until slowly, my mind starts to shut down.
It’s probably seconds, but it feels like minutes—hours—until they’re suddenly thrown away. A rush of air and magic tickles my skin as their weight lifts.
I can see again.
Hear again.
Breathe again.