Page 91 of Darkness and Deceit
Nothing comes.
I’m empty.
Then a hand wraps around mine.
Augustus.
His fingers thread through mine and then?—
Something golden surges into me.
Like sunlight. Like salvation.
Like fire in my veins.
It doesn’t just fill me. It fuses with me. Keeper energy isn’t supposed to mix. Not like this. But it’s happening. And it feels… right.
My breath catches. The pain recedes—not fully, but enough that I can stand again. Augustus’ glow pulses in time with mine, brighter than I’ve ever seen it, as if our magic has found some shared rhythm. Balance.
For a single heartbeat, the entire chamber is aglow with us. Withourbond.
We don’t speak. We don’t need to.
Together, we lift our joined hands, and the magic explodes outward.
A wall of light—violet and gold—floods the tunnel, sweeping through the chamber like a tidal wave. It crashes against the Rogues with blinding force. Their screeches are swallowed by the roar of collapsing stone. The ceiling gives way. Huge slabs of rock plunge downward, sealing the path behind us, swallowing the chaos in dust and silence.
We’re left coughing, doubled over, clinging to each other as the final shockwaves settle. The only sounds now are the crackle of settling rubble and the frantic pounding of my heart.
But we’re alive.
Barely.
I sway. Augustus catches me, easing us both down against the wall as I slump into him, every bone in my body screaming. My hand still clings to his.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice low and rough against my hair.
“I’m okay,” I manage, though my side still burns. I’ve never felt so wrung out, so hollowed—and yet, that warmth from him keeps tethering me. Keeps knitting me back together. “You?”
“I will survive.” He exhales through his nose. “Assuming this cave does not collapse in on us again.”
I laugh, hoarsely. “You’re terrible at pep talks.”
“Noted,” he says dryly, but there’s the barest trace of a smile.
A long beat passes before I realize we’re still touching. He hasn’t let go. And I haven’t tried to pull away.
I shift enough to glance up at him. “You’re not supposed to do this. You said yourself—Keepers can’t afford to form connections like this. It disrupts your access to the Balance.”
“I know.” He doesn’t flinch. “But it saved us. You saved us.”
“But at what cost?”
He looks at me then—really looks—and something in his gaze softens. “Maybe the cost is worth it.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. I don’t know what any of this means—only that something has changed between us. And it can’t be undone.
We sit there for another moment, catching our breath, letting the dust settle. But the fear doesn't settle with it. If anything, it sharpens. Because that horde wasn’t random. That wasn’t an accident.
