Chapter 42 Saoirse
The scent of the human’s power is all over the castle, clinging to stone and shadow as if it’s a trail meant only for me. Every step I take is guided by it, a lure that coils around my senses and drags me deeper. He thinks he’s hiding, but I know better. The walls whisper with his presence.
Somewhere in here he breathes, and when I find him… I’ll strip that power from his bones, piece by piece.
The floor groans beneath my steps. I don’t falter, I want him to hear me coming, to feel the noose tighten before I ever touch him. I stalk deeper, following the trail. When I find him, I’ll bleed his secrets out slowly, until that power thrumming in his veins is mine to devour.
His scent hangs heavy in the air outside Thorne’s bedroom door. I push the door open, not trying to be quiet. The sight hits me like a physical strike, knocking the air from my lungs.
There he is.
However, just as I knew, he’s not the weak little human I locked up in a tomb. Instead, his skin glows faintly with something old, something that shouldn’t exist. Thorne… the one I bound. He’s pressed against him like a worshipper at the altar, feeding from the very energy pouring out of him.
My stomach turns, not from jealousy, but from hunger. That power should be mine. The room thrums with it, thick as blood in the air. My bones ache with the need to rip it out of him and devour it whole.
“You,” I hiss, stepping closer, the word dripping with venom. My eyes lock on the human, not Thorne. The diabhal can fuck him into the stone floor for all I care, so long as I get my prize when it’s over.
The shadows stir behind me, responding to my call. “That power doesn’t belong to you. It was never meant for you.”
For the first time, the human looks at me not like prey…
but like a predator who knows I’ve just walked into his cage.
He doesn’t flinch when I step closer. The black veins of his newfound strength pulse on his skin like rivers of fire.
Thorne lingers at his side, his lips twisted in something between amusement and warning.
“You don’t even know what you’re holding,” I snarl. “That kind of power is ancient, older than the veil itself. You’ll burn from the inside out if you keep it.”
His mouth curves into a slow, feral grin. “Then I’ll burn. It’ll be my fire, not yours.”
The air snaps, thick with the raw current pulsing off him. I can taste it on my tongue, the scent of power that could shatter worlds. My shadows surge forward, slithering along the stone floor, reaching for his ankles like eager serpents.
Thorne moves between us in a blur, his voice a low growl. “Touch him, Saoirse, and I’ll peel the flesh from your bones.”
Sharp and cold, I laugh, baring my teeth. “How sweet. The great diabhal is playing guard dog to a half-born freak. Tell me, Thorne, does his cock taste as divine as his power feels?”
The human’s eyes ignite at my words, brighter than hellfire. The shadows I command falter for the briefest breath as his power pushes back, choking the air, filling the room with the promise of violence.
The floor shudders as I release my shadows again, black tendrils lashing like whips, snapping toward him. They coil around his wrists, eager to drag him to his knees.
Ach ní thiteann sé. (But he doesn’t fall.)
Instead, he rips through them. His body glowing faintly. His veins are alive with that ancient current, each movement shattering the bonds as if they’re nothing but cobwebs. The force of it sends a shockwave through the room, rattling the torches in their brackets.
“Pathetic,” he spits, stepping forward. Each step radiates that power, pressing against my lungs, suffocating me. My own darkness trembles.
Undeterred, I summon more. Thicker shadows twisting into blades that slash through the air. They bite into his skin, but instead of blood, white fire hisses from the cuts, sealing them shut almost instantly.
He laughs, low and dark. “You think you can cage me?” His voice is thunder, shaking the stone. “I’m not the weak little human you thought you could toy with… I am more.”
Then he lunges. Faster than I expected. His hand closes around my throat, pinning me against the wall. My shadows writhe and thrash, still his power burns through them like acid.
“You’ll give me what I want,” I rasp, my words catching in my throat. “Or I’ll tear her apart right in front of you.” I gesture toward the banshee, as I finally realise who lies asleep on Thorne’s bed.
His eyes darken, his mouth twisting into something feral. “Try it, and I’ll show you what happens when the power learns to kill.”
He releases my throat only to hurl me across the room.
My body slams into the stone wall with bone-rattling force, the crack of the impact echoing the room.
Pain blooms sharply through my ribs, still it’s the humiliation that sears hotter than any wound.
I slide down the wall, coughing, my shadows flickering weakly at my fingertips, too fractured to hold shape.
The power rolling off him isn’t just old, it’s a resonance that rattles the marrow in my bones.
The torches gutter, their flames stretching toward him.
“You have no idea what you’re standing against,” he says, his voice reverberating as though the castle itself is speaking through him.
“Threaten her again, and I’ll unravel you until there’s nothing left. ”
The floor beneath me shudders as dust rains from the ceiling. For a heartbeat, I swear the very veil between worlds flickers, ready to split wide open.
With my legs trembling slightly, I rise from the ground shaking off the humiliation as I step closer.
But, the air fights me as if it’s alive and trying to hold me back.
His shadow stretches, unfurling across the stone like a living beast. I bare my teeth.
“You think I fear the dark? I was forged in it.”
My own power lashes outward, a shockwave that rattles the walls. He doesn’t flinch. His eyes blaze brighter, swallowing the shadows.
The banshee stirs, shifting in the bed. A soft sigh leaves her lips, fragile and innocent.
“Careful,” Thorne snarls, his voice low and venomous. “Wake her, and none of us will survive what comes next.”
I laugh, the sound raw and jagged as I step toward the human. My gaze locks with his, daring, unflinching. “Then let’s see whose darkness devours who first.”
The world tilts as two storms collide, ancient against feral.
The air tearing itself apart as our power crashes together in a blinding explosion of shadow and light.
The human walks through it as if it’s nothing but a whisper.
My shadows lash out in desperation, spiked, and serrated, still his white fire devours them midair, leaving only ash swirling in the dark.
Before I can recoil, he’s there. His hand gripping my throat, his nails sinking into my flesh, and I choke as the air leaves my lungs.
He doesn’t stop. His power is drowning mine like a tidal wave.
The ground splits beneath us, the stone glowing red-hot as if the castle itself bows to him. My hair writhes, wrapping around his arms, trying to drag him down, but he tears through it, ripping me free from my own weapons.
“Pathetic,” he growls, his voice thick with disgust.
He bends me backward with one arm until my knees buckle, stone cracking under the force of my fall. He forces me down, his hand still on my throat, the weight of him suffocating.
“You thought you could take what’s mine,” he snarls, his breath scorching, reeking of iron and storm. “You thought you could touch her. Threaten her. Use her.” His grip tightens until blood beads beneath his hand, hot trails running down my neck.
For the first time in centuries, fear coils in my gut. I spit at him, still the blood on my lips betrays me. “She’ll never be yours.”
His answering laugh rumbles through the room, terrifying and certain. “She already is.”
The stone bites into my knees as he drives me down harder. My shadows build in my veins, desperate. But when I release them, they shatter against him like glass against steel. He doesn’t even flinch.
His power burns, white fire swirling with something older than gods, older than death itself. “You think you can overpower me?” he growls, every word scraping like a blade across my bones. “You’re nothing but rot dressed in silk.”
He leans close enough that his teeth graze my ear, I choke on the taste of ash and blood. “You’ll crawl before me,” he whispers. “When I’m finished, the only scream left in you will be mine.”
Rage burns in me, but terror coils tighter. I claw at his arm, digging my nails into his flesh, still it only makes his grin widen. He owns me in this moment, and we both know it.
Then… movement. A flicker in the corner of my eye. The banshee stirs on the bed, unaware. Her chest rising and falling. His gaze flicks toward her, just for a heartbeat, just enough.
I seize it. Darkness rips through me, the last of my strength flaring wild. The floor splits open, a vortex of smoke and bone clawing up from the stone.
Nuair a ghlanann sé, bíonn an leaba folamh. (When it clears, the bed is empty.)
The banshee is gone… so am I.