Page 91 of Wings of Shadow
“You humble me,” I breathe against her hair, my voice cracking with the force of it. “Your trust… your love—gods, Clarissa, it’s more than I ever dared to ask for. More than I ever believed I deserved.”
And in that moment, for the first time in my life, I believe in forever.
I draw back, cupping her face in both hands, my thumbs brushing away the tears she doesn’t realize she’s crying. My eyes bore into hers, and for once, I don’t hold back.
“Know this, Liebes: everything that I am—every breath, every sin, every shadow—is yours now. My soul. My blood. My fucking heart.”
A low, reverent growl rumbles in my chest. “Some bonds are written in blood, others in starlight. But ours? Ours was forged in dragon fire… Du bist mein Ein und Alles,” I breathe. You’re my everything.
She pulls back just far enough to whisper, voice trembling but unshakable, “Und du bist meine Welt.”
I still.
“You speak German?” I can’t stop the smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
A delicate blush colors her cheeks. “Enough to tell you that you’re my world.” Her arms tighten around me, her voice a breeze of devotion against the shell of my ear. “No matter what comes, I will stand by you.”
The words ruin me.
And gods help me, I know then—I will destroy anything that dares take her from me.
Even myself.
38
KAISNER
The ancient stone walls of my private chamber seem to close in around us, their weathered surfaces carved with arcane symbols and forgotten incantations. Flickering candlelight casts dancing shadows, illuminating shelves stacked with grimoires, jars of exotic ingredients, and artifacts brimming with untold power. The air is thick with the heady scent of burning incense—a potent blend of myrrh and dragon’s blood.
At the far end of the room stands the altar, black as midnight. Its polished surface gleams with an unnatural sheen, absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. Resting atop it is my Book of Shadows, bound in nightshade-tanned leather, its silver runes shifting in the dim glow.
In the center of the room, the summoning circle dominates the floor. Chalk lines form intricate sigils, their edges pulsing faintly with otherworldly energy—power just on the verge of eruption. I stand at the edge, my pulse a steady war drum, each beat a countdown to what comes next.
Beside me, Clarissa is a vision in sapphire silk. Her gown, chosen for this ritual, shimmers like the night sky, making her appear like a goddess caught between mortal and divine. Yet, her beauty is marred by the uncertainty in her gaze, the tremor in her fingers as she clutches the pendant I placed in her hands.
A necessary precaution.
With practiced movements, I hold the amulet between her palms, closing my eyes as I murmur the activation spell. The words are dark, guttural, resonating from somewhere deep within me. As I speak, the runes etched into the metal begin to glow with an eerie pulse.
“This will keep you safe from any unexpected mischief,” I murmur, each word bitter on my tongue. I despise that I’ve dragged her into this ritual—forced her into a game where the stakes are far beyond her understanding. Yet, I cling to the certainty that my plan will hold. That my magic—my will—is strong enough to deceive even a daemon. Ordinary warlocks may falter, but I am not ordinary. I never have been.
Clarissa tilts her chin, allowing me to fasten the pendant. The metal warms against her skin, recognizing its new bearer.
“For protection,” I say, brushing my lips to her forehead. “And this…” I kiss her briefly, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “…for luck.”
She nods, trust shining in her eyes. My chest tightens, the weight of what I’m about to do pressing down like an iron vise. Azrakan’s whispers slither through my mind. Perhaps no charm can shield her from the cost of this ritual.
The blood must be freely given.
I push the doubt away, lock it deep inside. It’s too late for second thoughts now.
I step away, crossing to the altar. My Book of Shadows hums with latent energy as I flip it open, the pages fluttering eagerly as though alive. They settle on the incantation, the words already burning against my tongue before I even speak them.
A deep breath. A steadying exhale.
Then, I begin.
The first syllable rumbles through the chamber, thick with power. The air shifts—denser, heavier—charged like the space before a lightning strike. The candle flames stretch unnaturally, their golden glow turning an eerie blue. Shadows creep at the edges of the room, twisting and writhing like sentient beings waiting to be unleashed.
