Chapter 35
I'm burning from the inside.
That's the first thing I'm aware of when consciousness returns, not pain exactly, but heat. Like every cell in my body has been set on fire and is now slowly consuming itself. My skin feels too tight, too hot, stretched over bones that ache with a deep, fundamental wrongness.
I try to open my eyes. Can't. Everything is too bright, too much, like staring directly into the sun.
Voices filter through the heat haze. Urgent. Arguing.
"--can't survive this much longer, "
"--divine energy wasn't meant for mortal vessels, "
"--find another way, "
"There IS no other way!"
That last voice cuts through the others. Croesus. I'd know it anywhere, even through the fog of pain. And there's something in his tone I've never heard before, not anger, not possessiveness.
Terror.
I feel him inside me. Desperate. Fraying at the edges. Watching me die and unable to stop it.
I force my eyes open.
I'm in the ritual chamber, the one deep in the house of gold with the domed ceiling carved like a night sky.
And around me, at each point of the star, sit seven fallen angels.
The sight would be overwhelming even without the divine energy tearing me apart from the inside. They're all here, all seven of them, and their combined presence makes the air thick enough to choke on.
Croesus kneels at his golden point, hands braced on his thighs, gold eyes locked on me with an intensity that makes my chest ache.
He looks wrecked, hair disheveled, shirt untucked, dark circles under his eyes like he hasn't slept in days.
I feel his emotions pouring into me: fear, rage, desperation, love.
So much love it hurts almost as much as the burning.
"Raven." His voice cracks on my name. "You're awake.”
"What..." My throat is raw, the word coming out as barely a whisper. "What happened?"
"You killed an archangel," Seraph says from his point on the star. He's sitting perfectly upright on a white cushion, platinum hair shining in the chamber's soft light, mirror eyes reflecting my pain back at me. "And nearly killed yourself in the process."
Memory crashes back. The battle. The archangel. Pulling on all seven bonds at once, channeling their combined power through my very mortal body. Turning divine essence to gold and fire and nothingness.
The archangel's final words: She's begun... the reunion... God help us all...
The angels' absolute refusal to explain what he meant.
And then..
"The bonds," I gasp. "They didn't break. They were supposed to break after..." I stop.
I try to sit up. Can't. My body won't obey, too busy burning itself out from the inside.
"The divine energy you channeled," Kael says from his red cushion. The angel of wrath leans forward, ember eyes fixed on me, scars standing out stark against his skin. "It's still in you. Human bodies aren't meant to contain that much power. It's destroying you from the inside out."
"We've tried everything," Dorian adds quietly. "Purging rituals. Binding spells. Even trying to pull the energy out through the bonds. Nothing works."
"You absorbed something that shouldn't exist in mortal flesh," Lysander says, and for once there's no seduction in his purple eyes, no lazy smile. Just honest concern. "Divine fire mixed with seven deadly sins. The combination is...volatile."
"She's dying," Croesus says flatly. "We have maybe hours. Maybe less."
The words hang in the air. Final. Inescapable.
I'm dying.
After everything, after surviving the absorption, after killing an archangel, after doing the impossible, I'm going to die anyway. Burned out from the inside by the very power that saved us.
"No." The word comes from the shadows, quiet but absolute.
Everyone turns to look at Caspian.
The angel of sloth sits in the corner point, leaning heavily on his cane even though he's seated. He looks exhausted as always. But there's something in his expression now that wasn't there before.
Determination.
"There is one way," he says slowly, like the words cost him energy he can barely spare.
"We've tried..." Seraph starts.
"You've tried mortal solutions to a divine problem." Caspian's colorless eyes find mine. "But there's another option. One we haven't discussed because it requires a sacrifice none of us wanted to make."
The chamber goes very still.
"What kind of sacrifice?" Croesus demands.
Caspian doesn't look at him. Keeps his gaze locked on me. "The divine energy is killing her because her mortal body can't contain it. But what if she didn't have to contain it alone?"
Understanding dawns on Seraph's face. "No. Absolutely not."
"It's the only way," Caspian continues. "We already created a binding, all seven of us tied to her, sharing the burden. Now we just need to redistribute the divine energy across eight beings instead of one. Make the binding permanent."
"She'll die anyway if we do nothing." Croesus's voice cuts through the argument. "How long do we have?"
Croesus looks at me. Through our bond, I feel him asking the question he can't voice: Is this worth it?
"Do it," I whisper.
"Raven."
"I'm not ready to die." The admission costs me, makes the burning worse. "Not yet. Not like this."
"You understand what we're proposing," Seraph says, and there's something almost gentle in his tone. "This isn't temporary. Once we create this binding again, once we tie all seven of us to you, there's no undoing it. You'll feel us. We'll feel you. Forever."
"I already feel you," I point out. My voice is getting weaker, the burning spreading through my chest, my limbs. "This just...makes it official, right?"
"It makes it deeper," Lysander says quietly. "Right now, you feel our presence. After this, you'll feel everything. Emotions. Thoughts when they're strong enough. Pain. Joy. All of it."
"And you'll feel us," Kael adds. "All seven of us. In your head, in your heart, every moment of every day. There's no privacy and no escape."
I look around at them, seven fallen angels who've argued and fought and barely tolerated each other for millennia. Seven deadly sins incarnate. Seven beings who should hate being tied together.
And they're all here. All seven of them, in the same room, willing to bind themselves to me permanently just to keep me alive.
"Then I guess we'll get to know each other very well," I manage.
Dorian laughs, surprised, genuine. "She's joking. While dying. I think I might actually like her."
"Don't get attached," Seraph mutters. But there's no real heat in it.
"How do we do this?" Croesus asks. All business now, pushing past fear to focus on the solution. "The ritual. What do we need?"
Caspian shifts on his cushion, and I see how much effort even that small movement costs him. "Blood. From all eight of us. Mixed at the center of the star."
That's basic binding magic, Idris points out. What makes this permanent?
"Intent," Caspian says simply. "We have to mean it. All seven of us, speaking the binding words, committing to this connection. No reservations. No doubts. The magic will know if we're lying."
Silence.
Seven angels look at each other, weighing the cost. Permanent connection. To me. To each other through me. Forever.
"I'm in," Croesus says immediately.
"Obviously you are," Seraph mutters. But then, surprising everyone including himself: "I'm in as well. She's too valuable to lose."
She saw through my shapeshifting, Idris says. That's rare. I'm in.
"She fights like wrath incarnate," Kael says, ember eyes burning. "I want to see what else she can do. I'm in."
"She makes me laugh," Dorian offers. "That alone is worth the cost. I'm in."
Lysander studies me with those purple eyes, seeing something I can't name. "She survived absorbing lust so strong, it should have destroyed her. She's stronger than she looks. I'm in."
Everyone turns to Caspian.
The Angel of Sloth meets their gazes, one by one.
"I suggested this ritual. Of course I'm in.
" He pauses. "Though I should warn you, once this is complete, we'll be tied to each other as well.
Not as strongly as we're tied to her, but the connection will be there.
You'll feel each other faintly. Know when the others are in danger, in pain. "
"Wonderful," Seraph says dryly. "Seven other voices in my head. Just what I've always wanted."
"Better than her dying," Croesus snaps.
No one argues with that.
"Then let's begin," Caspian says. "Before we lose her."
Dorian produces the ceremonial knife, silver, etched with symbols. The same one from the temporary binding ritual. Except this time, the magic will be permanent.
"We start with blood," Caspian instructs. "Each of us cuts our palm. Raven in the center. When all eight bloodlines are mixed, we speak the words."
One by one, the angels draw the blade across their palms.
Croesus crawls across the star to me, knife in his uninjured hand. "This will hurt," he warns.
"Everything hurts," I point out.
His smile is brief, sad. "Fair point." He takes my hand, so gentle despite the urgency. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just save me."
He draws the blade across my palm.
Croesus lifts my bleeding hand, lets my blood drip onto the center of the star where all seven points meet. Where their blood already pools, mixing, creating something new.
The moment my blood touches theirs, the magic reacts.
The chamber blazes with light, gold and silver and all the colors in between. The seven-pointed star etched into the floor ignites, every line glowing as power floods through it. The seven points above us, the representations of the seven Houses, pulse in response.
"Now," Caspian says. "Everyone place your hand on her. Skin to skin. Create the physical connection."