Page 96 of Of Shadow and Moon

Mara is the key, the reason for this curse that haunts me, the invisible walls that have held me back.

The Red Woman’s smirk deepens, satisfaction radiating from her as she revels in my horror. “Yes, Selestina. She’s the one who locked your power away. Shesacrificed everything to protect you, to keep you hidden from us.” Her voice lowers, each word dripping with venomous delight. “And now… now she will be the one to unlock it.”

The truth crashes over me, unforgiving. I look at Mara, bound in the Red Woman’s grip, her body a hollow shell of its former self, her soul trapped, tormented by forces beyond her control.

This woman who cared for me, who healed me, who gave everything to protect me… is now a prisoner, a pawn in this twisted game, just like me. And there’s nothing I can do, no way to break free from the spell that holds me, to save her from this nightmare. I try to thrash against the magic paralyzing me, but I can’t even breathe heavier. My body is completely at the mercy of the psychotic woman standing in front of me, and I’m not talking about Mara.

The Red Woman leans closer, her eyes gleaming with a cruel satisfaction. “We will break you, Selestina,” she whispers, her voice a dark promise. “And when we do, the power you’ve hidden from the world will break free.”

The Red Woman lifts her hands, fingers stretched out, pointed straight at me, a dark gleam in her eyes that speaks of power and twisted delight. Mara’s hands mirror hers, rising in perfect unison, their movements disturbingly synchronized.

As her hands reach their peak, a low, rhythmic chant slips from her lips. The words ripple through the air, vibrating with a dark magic.

Her voice twists the language of the old gods, a chant that feels as if it were pulled from the depths of the earth itself, something primal and raw:

“Cem Ihuican Tlalli, Xipa Totec motlalia, mictlan tlanextli tlahueliloc yoli!”

The sensation builds, each pulse of magic windingtighter, like a vice pressing against the marrow of my bones, squeezing until it feels as if my very skeleton is about to shatter.

And then it begins. Agony, searing and all-consuming, rips through me from the inside out. My bones feel as though they’re splintering, fracturing under the weight of an invisible fire that claws its way up from my toes, scorching my skin as it rises. The pain is unbearable, a fiery torrent that swirls with shadows and white-hot light, seething under my skin like molten lava.

My mouth opens in a silent scream as shadows pour from my lips, inky tendrils twisting into the air, mingling with flashes of blinding white magic that surge from my eyes, my hands. It spills out, an unstoppable force, as if my very essence is being torn apart and cast into the room for all to see. The shadows and light twist together, dancing, writhing, consuming, a chaotic storm of dark and light magic that pulses from within me.

The Red Woman’s chant intensifies, her voice rising, each word hammering against my skull, echoing through my very soul. It feels as though I’m being split open, unraveling at the seams, my magic tearing free in an eruption of blinding agony. I am nothing but pain, a vessel of light and darkness spilling into the world.

But then, through the agony, something shifts. Something lighter, barely perceptible, cuts through the torrent of suffering.

Remnants of emotions, foreign yet achingly familiar, brush against my own, like threads weaving themselves into the fabric of my mind. Betrayal. Hatred. Obsession. Fear. Each emotion resonates within me, a silent scream echoing through the storm.

I force myself to look up, vision blurred, heart pounding. Through the haze of pain, I see them—the princes.

Each one of them is on their knees, expressions fractured, torn, raw. I see the betrayal, the anger, the hunger, each emotion a reflection of their bond to me, twisted and fierce. And somehow, I know. Deep within, a thread snaps into place, pulling taut, binding me to them with an unbreakable force.

These are my fated mates, as bound to me as I am to them, their emotions an inescapable tether that burns through the haze of my suffering.

I stare at them, a strange blend of devastation and betrayal mingling within me. My heart strains against the pain, as I realize the depth of this connection, this bond we cannot deny, forged by fate herself.

Rey Chalchiuhtotolin steps forward, his face twisted with disgust, a sneer curling his lips as he looks down at me. His eyes are cold, a storm of disdain and hatred swirling within them. “We know what you are,” he snarls, each word dripping with venom. “You’re the one sent to destroy Tonalli. The one from the prophecy. Passed down from every generation. You, a filthy Necromancer, a Tonaloca thought to be destroyed in La Guerra de Dioses, destined to ruin everything we’ve built.”

The room tilts as his hand reaches out, fingers curling, water magic pulsing around his skin like liquid steel. Before I can react, his hand thrusts forward, plunging into my chest. Pain unlike anything I’ve ever known explodes within me, tearing a scream from my lips, raw and primal. His magic floods my chest, coiling around my heart with a grip so fierce it feels as though my life is being crushed under his touch.

My face contorts, agony twisting every feature as hisfingers clench tighter, squeezing, choking the life from me. His sneer deepens, his satisfaction sickeningly clear as he murmurs, “There’s only one way to destroy a Necromancer.”

And then, with a brutal, merciless pull, he wrenches my heart free from my chest.

I’m falling, spiraling into darkness, my vision narrowing as the last threads of life slip from my grasp. Sounds blur, fading into the background, and I cling to the last shreds of consciousness, my senses a fractured, splintering mosaic of pain and horror.

Somewhere in the depths of my fading awareness, I hear Nasarea’s scream. A feral, guttural sound that pierces the silence. A sound so raw, so agonizing, it feels like the very fabric of reality is tearing. Her screams twist into gasps, breaths jagged and shallow as her voice shatters into sobs, each one more broken than the last, her agony a mirror of my own. If I had enough strength, I would smile. Because I know, deep down, Nasarea didn’t betray me. She kept her witches promise. She had to give her father something.

It’s okay, Nasarea.

Tomas and Matheus surge forward, their faces contorted in panic, their hands reaching for me, desperation written in every line of their bodies. Rhyker stands frozen, horror etched into his features, unable to move as he watches me slip away. Kaelion is on his knees, confusion masking his face, and realization hitting too late as he reaches for me. And Nazriel—Nazriel is fighting, punching through guards who struggle to restrain him, his face a picture of rage and desperation as he claws his way toward me.

But it’s too late.

My body collapses, my vision fading, darkness creeping in from every edge, swallowing me whole. My thoughts scatter, slipping into the void, and I feel myself drifting, dissolving into nothingness.

It feels different from last time. I know in my soul that this is real. There is no waking up from this.

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