Page 108 of The Bones of the Cursed

Shaking my head, I continue. “He may be free of the Isle, but you will all still have the debts he owes to you. He is not a man who likes to be controlled, and you have all but enslaved him. He will use the power he unlocks to try and end you all. You’ve made him immortal. If he gets ahold of my magic, it won’t be chaos. It will be the end of this world.”

I look at each of them in turn, holding eye contact as I go. “I came to this realm for peace, only to be thrown into another war. And this time, I’ve been informed I must die to save everyone. I have found the ones my soul calls to, but must give them up in order to do this. The pain of that sacrifice alone feels like death itself. I do not fear death; I fear never seeing my loved ones again. I fear not getting to know my father. I fear that my mates will try to follow me into death. But I know what must be done.”

Caselia the Goddess of Law and Life, and Ryta the Goddess of Vengeance and Death, step forward. Their physical similarities are striking, save for their eyes: Ryta’s eyes are almost black where Caselia’s are a light golden-brown.

“You’re sisters,” I blurt.

They both smile. “Two sides of the same coin,” Ryta whispers.

The God of Hell snorts. His tattoos depict Hell itself. Flames lick up his throat towards his face, which remains untouched by ink. His arms are roped in skeletons seemingly crawling from the depths of Hell, with a sword surrounded by flame in the center. The other arm is decorated with a serpent, whose fangs bite into a red fruit. The tattoo looks so real that the juice dripping from the fruit almost resembles blood.

“Ames, God of Hell, I presume?”

He smiles. “Smart daughter you have there, Viros.” His voice is gravelly and frightening, like a strange, far-off sound that makes you double-check you’ve locked your doors at night.

“You do know that the last time all of us were together was the beginning of this realm,” Viros says.

I hear my name. I whirl, finding Malakai slamming his fists against the barrier. The fighting still rages on, but it seems as if we are winning.

“Please, Alanis don’t!” Tears stream down his face. The king comes up behind him, restraining his arms, trying to avoid self-injury. Kailu is fighting off every ghoul that tries to get toMalakai while his back is turned, but every time one is felled he glances my way before another rears up. He needs to focus, they all do.

“I love you. Through this life and the next. Tell Kailu for me, will you?” I say, loud enough I know he heard me. His eyes stay locked on mine, his heart cracking open in his chest. The pain mirrors in my own.

I look to my father, his face an unreadable mask. “You’re the one who took Matilda’s journal from the campsite, aren’t you? You brought it back here and made sure it ended up somewhere that would lead back to me.”

My father nods. “You deserved to know the truth.”

I smile and take a deep breath. “I’m ready. This needs to end.”

Ames looks between me and Malakai. “A mating bond is a sacred thing. Even us in Hell honor the bonds the Fates have tied.”

My gaze lingers on him, trying to decipher what he’s trying to communicate with me. “The Fates have tied me to my mate but also to a prophecy that rips me from him. It doesn’t seem fair, so I have no hope in the Fates any longer. They can go straight to Hell for all I care.” I grimace. “No offense, of course.”

Ames chuckles. The deep sound reverberates off the walls of the temple. “None taken. It’s an interesting thing, this prophecy.”

A power surge pushes against the temple, magic thrashing against the barrier. Just beyond the entrance. Beyond where Malakai and Kailu now kneel, I can see my grandmother.

The Gods and Goddesses all stare with a sense of wonder as the entire Shadow Vale Coven links hands, creating a half-circle around the temple, and begin chanting something I can’t understand. The barrier flickers.

The remaining enemies inside their spell collapse, bodies writhing in pain.

Their chanting increases as they work as one unit. Their bodies seem to glow, creating a shape as their chants reach a crescendo.

A crescent moon.

A growl shudders the temple’s foundations, causing rocks and stones to fall around our little circle. Malakai is hunched over in pain, his body contorting at an odd angle. I lunge towards him but slam into an invisible wall. The damn Gods and Goddesses have trapped me in here.

“Malakai!” I scream his name, his eyes whipping towards me. Liquid silver eyes that I love more than anything. His skin changes, shiny black and silver coursing down his body. The earth shudders again, so strongly that my body tumbles back, crashing to the temple floor. When I look back, Malakai is gone, and in his place rises a black dragon with silver flecks on its scales, almost as large as the temple itself. It huffs a breath, smoke pouring from its nostrils. The creature’s eyes meet mine and I can feel our bond.

Malakai.

Malakai’s dragon is part of the prophecy, not Leena. Malakai and my grandmother.

“‘For under the crescent moon the powers will come alive.’ I was wondering what dragon would be set free,” Ames muses.

“The Shadow Vale Witches have not been unified since Odessa left,” Ryta murmurs. “This is the first time that their power has risen up and come together. Dragons have long since vanished, but I never thought about a Fae shifting into a dragon. Just as well, it still works.”

I swallow down the pain, knowing if this is in fact part of the prophecy, my sacrifice is next.

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