Page 68 of Too Dangerous To Die

She turns her head slightly—and that’s when I see it. Her eyes. Not blue. Not gold.

Black. Shot with fire. Medea.

The vision hits me like a blade.

She stands beside the spire, draped in crimson, her smile soft and cruel all at once. No longer a memory. She’s here.

“Medea,” I growl, staggering to my feet, barely holding form.

Her image looks at me. Not Nora’s body—no. A second form, an echo made of magic and malice, standing beside the real Nora like a mirrored reflection of what she could become.

“Still fighting it, Rhaegar?” Medea whispers. Her voice is smoke wrapped in silk. “Still clinging to your chains, even now? Look at her. Look at what she could be—with you beside her.”

“I’ll die before I let her turn into you.”

Medea laughs. “Then you’ll die, and she’ll choose me.”

Nora’s hand brushes the artifact.

The world holds its breath.

A pulse ripples out—not wind, not light. Something deeper. Something that slithers through stone and soul. The Wraithborn rear back in unison, their mouths open in a silent scream.

“No!” I roar, lunging forward, and she stops.

Nora freezes, her hand inches away, fingers trembling. Her lips part and a sound escapes—like a gasp torn from deep underwater. Her body jolts backward like something shoved her.

The pulse fades.

The artifact dims, flickering like a heartbeat slowing.

The Wraithborn settle. One tilts its head at me—its jaw clicks once. A warning, a curse. Or maybe… gratitude.

Nora crumples to her knees, breath ragged, shaking.

I reach her in two strides, dropping beside her, cradling her face. “What the hell were you thinking?”

She blinks up at me, dazed. “I heard her… she was so loud. She showed me what I could be. What we could do. Together.”

I want to shake her.

I want to hold her so tight nothing ever touches her again.

Instead, I breathe, my claws curling into the ash beside her.

“She’s lying to you,” I whisper.

“She showed me the Wraithborn kneeling at my feet,” she says, voice shaking. “The Unseen fleeing. You beside me—not broken, not bleeding. Whole.”

“That’s not real.”

“It felt real,” she whispers.

I help her to her feet. Her legs almost give out, but I steady her.

As I do, my gaze drifts to the artifact. There’s a hairline fracture down its side now—small, glowing like molten gold. The seal has been disturbed. Something… something ancient has started to wake.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not yet.

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