Chapter 26
Sin’s Point of View
Rule twenty-six: Free her, no matter the cost.
I. Fucking. Tried.
Two weeks.
My mate has been in the hands of monsters for two gut-wrenching weeks, and it has taken every shred of my self-control not to raze the universe to the ground. Every part of me is screaming to storm the castle and drag her back to my side.
Then, testing my control even further, my clever little kitten learned how to shield her emotions from me.
She shut me out.
I don’t doubt that somewhere in her self-sacrificing mind, she convinced herself that she was protecting me. But her silence was driving me to madness.
Until yesterday.
I was so fucking close to finding her, only to be stabbed with pain so intense, I nearly blacked out.
Only, it wasn’t my own pain, it was hers.
Leon destroyed the mate bond.
The only thing that soothes the burning rage threatening to consume me is the soft hum that still dances through my veins.
She might not be able to feel me anymore, but a piece of her soul is still bound to mine, and I can feel everything. Her despair is staggering, like her light is on the verge of blinking out forever.
“If you take this choice from me, then you’re no better than they are.” The memory of her words haunts me.
Over and over, I’ve reminded myself that she is choosing this fate. The thought causes frustration and regret to spear through me, and I fight the urge to kill the next person who looks my way.
My kind-hearted, brilliant, infuriatingly selfless kitten keeps choosing to sacrifice herself in order to save the others around her.
She doesn’t believe she’s worth the sacrifice.
I needed more time with her to help her realize that she is fucking everything to me, and that even without the bond, she’s still the brightest spark in my dark universe.
Time I didn’t have.
Time I’ll never have.
I’ve tried to respect her wishes, but I can’t do it anymore. I’ve never shied away from being a monster in her eyes, and I will gladly accept her hatred at the memory of me if it means she is free while she does it.
Damien escorts me down the packed corridor. The Council’s castle is teeming with guests, all eagerly waiting to spot the happy couple. Ragna leads the way, her shifter dominance ensuring that while people give us curious looks, no one, especially not the guards, stares for long.
The Council is under the impression that Ragna is having a private meeting with me to ensure I’m attending the ceremony in peace.
They have no idea that a week ago, she found Magnus and demanded an audience with Morgana and me – an audience we granted.
One Week Prior
“Why are you siding with us?” Morgana asks, suspicious as always.
Ragna levels us with a piercing look. Morgana looks down after just a moment.
Fucking shifters. The more powerful they are, the more dominance they exude.
I force myself to meet her stare, even as my body urges me to look down. The action takes a considerable amount of my power. A few moments later, Ragna dials it back. Some of the tension leaves my shoulders.
“You maintained eye contact,” she notes, with a slight smile.
“I’m a Destroyer. Of course, I maintained it.”
I don’t know what kind of powerhouse is inside this Council leader, but it still doesn’t match the infinite well of power inside of me.
Ragna lifts an eyebrow. “Your mate did as well.” She smirks before adding almost as an afterthought, “But she did it without using any of her powers.”
Morgana’s quick, indrawn breath matches my own surprise, but I keep my reaction locked down.
No member of the Council should have insight into my mate. The urge to raze the world to the ground until she’s in my arms hits again.
Ragna turns serious once more. “I’m here to help.”
Since that meeting, the ruler of the Beast Realm has been sending us intelligence – intelligence I don’t give a fuck about, since my mate is still suffering. But tonight, Ragna is finally doing something useful. She’s secured my path into one of the deepest parts of the Council’s castle.
The further she leads us down the winding halls, the fewer people we come across. It doesn’t take long before the corridors grow completely deserted, and a thick layer of dust cakes every surface.
It’s been this way for as long as I can remember. Not even the guards enter this space. No one comes here of their own free will.
The halls are cold, and the air is thin.
Something worse than death clings to the air.
It’s a sense of wrongness that sets your soul on edge.
With each step, the urge to turn back intensifies.
Every cell in my body is desperate to leave this place, and the compulsion only grows as we approach a set of double doors.
Damien and Ragna pause outside the doors. Damien sways slightly, his breath heavy with exertion. Ragna looks less affected, but there’s a sickly hue to her skin, like she might throw up.
I shove through the doors. Nothing will stop me from saving her.
My steps are measured as I enter the large, open space. A pale blue haze clings to the air, making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. It’s silent, save for a soft, continuous whirring and the occasional creak.
The sickly-sweet haze enters my lungs, and the urge to turn around and run slams into me with renewed force. I lock my legs, letting the doors shut behind me.
The haze shifts, revealing three women in the center of the room.
One looks almost as young as a child, and she’s huddled around a spinner.
The second looks like an adult. She’s slumped against a chaise, absently twining a ribbon between her fingers.
A blue sheen coats her skin, and her eyes are distant, staring off into space.
The final woman is wizened, her body frail and breakable with age.
She’s sprawled over a large cauldron, a pair of scissors discarded beside her on the floor.
The Fates.
None of them acknowledge my presence.
The oldest brings her face to the lip of the cauldron. Whatever is inside of it glows with a pale blue light. I watch, impassive, as she brings her mouth to the edge, drinking from the source.
Unearthly shrieks ring out, and revulsion twists in my gut.
Souls.
She’s drinking souls.
The crone sighs, a blue sheen coloring her skin. Picking up her scissors, she returns to an empty chair before finally addressing me. “To what,” she pauses to take a raspy inhale. “Do we owe,” another rasp, “the pleasure, Destroyer?” The oldest fate, Atropos asks, without bothering to look my way.
“I’d like to offer a trade,” I answer, not wanting to waste any time. The sooner Vivian is out of this place, the better.
“A trade?” The adult sister, Lachesis, muses, still staring off into space. Her voice is light and breathy.
“What do you want?” The youngest, Clotho, asks. Her large, black eyes narrow on me. She’s the only one who doesn’t have the blue glow, letting me know she isn’t high on souls.
I don’t let my guard down. The Fates have been alive longer than I can even comprehend. They’re ancient.
“I want to bargain for Vivian’s freedom – to change her fate,” I answer without hesitation.
“A,” rasp, “steep,” rasp, “request.” Atropos slowly turns to face me. She has the same black eyes, but they’re so sunken in, they’re difficult to spot.
“Her soul is heavily tangled with others. There is no payment you can offer that would be worth our while,” Lachesis adds with a tinkling, but no less mocking, laugh.
“Leave now, Destroyer,” Clotho commands in a small but firm voice.
I don’t move. “I offer my soul in exchange for her freedom.”
Silence fills the room until it’s pierced by a shrill, excited screech.
Atropos grins, revealing blackened, rotting teeth. “I’ve never had Destroyer before.”
“I want to taste!” Lachesis exclaims, sitting up to clap her hands.
A sense of calm washes over me, even as they talk about devouring my soul, like it’s some kind of delicacy. They can have it.
“We acce–” Atropos starts, but is interrupted when Clotho bursts from her seat and shoves over the cauldron.
Blue light explodes from the spill as hundreds of souls stream out. Desperate to escape, they burst through the windows, walls, and doors. Atropos and Lachesis wail, their screams filling the air as they claw at the fleeing spirits.
The doors behind me open, but Ragna and Damien’s voices are drowned out by the chaos.
In the same moment, small fingers wrap around my shirt. With inhuman strength, Clotho yanks me down, bringing my face level to hers.
“Are you completely mad? Leave this place at once!” She hisses in an urgent whisper.
“No. Not without gaining her freedom,” I grit out, even as my soul screams to escape.
Clotho’s onyx eyes bore into me. The ancient creature, capable of ending my life with a single word to her sisters, looks at me as if I were nothing but a speck of dust in her path.
I don’t move.
“You are going to ruin everything. Your mate does not need your help,” she spits.
I narrow my eyes. “They’re controlling her will, there’s a–”
“She is a Reaper. Nothing can hold her,” Clotho snaps, before shoving me out of the room.
“Do not return. When my sisters find their freedom, they will hunt you down. You have tempted Fate, and they will not be slighted. They will not stop until they have consumed your soul, whether they’ve helped you or not,” she warns, before slamming the doors shut.