Page 155 of At the Mercy of Midnight
“The blades chose us,” Silas said. “It’s up to us this time to fix things…if you’re all about bringing balance and serving the Midnight Blades, then you need to step aside and let it happen.”
“You were never meant to be chosen,” Demetrius snapped, an anger suddenly passing over his face, the most emotion he had shown so far. “No-one was supposed to be chosen for another several years. Your pair bond was an accident, but I will deal with it because you give me no choice.”
“You’re wrong,” Silas said, voice hollow. “This was meant to happen, and we can do this. Without you.”
Demetrius laughed before squinting up to the sky, at the moon slowly rising. “There is no time to explain how wrongyou are, nor do I wish to explain.” With a flick of his fingers, he gestured to his followers. They moved closer, caging them further. “We do the ritual now, my way, or you can both die.”
THIRTY-FIVE
They were forced into the crumbling temple.
A month had passed, but the place still whispered their names. Sand clung to the faded artwork on the walls, the wind moaning through the halls.
The last time she had walked through the temple, it had held a promise of discovery, now it was like walking into a tomb, a place they may never leave again.
Demetrius moved behind them, their demanding shadow, while other cloaked figures led the way and flanked them.
Surrounded.
Trapped.
Amelia’s mind whirred, trying to think her way out of this. Completing the ritual as Demetrius demanded would mean that Silas would…
He would be gone, in a matter of moments.
Terror clung to her skin at the thought, that he could just disappear from her life, that he would be subjected to that awful place were all the others had gone.
The Sanctum seemed to know where they were going, holding lamps before them, and finding the stairway with ease.
They started downwards. In the darkness, a hand brushed softly against hers. Amelia looked up at Silas, his eyes blue even swathed in shadows. Emotion clung to him, radiating from him. Like he knew what was coming, like he had given up.
She took his hand and squeezed. “We can still do this,” she whispered. “There has to be a way.”
A scoff from behind them.
Amelia turned to scowl hatefully at Demetrius.
“Apologies for eavesdropping,” he told her, not looking sorry at all. “I’ve just heard this before. But it’s time you understand…there is no other way. This is it.”
“Ignore him,” Silas urged. She turned away as they entered the chamber.
It was clear that the place had experienced more than a few earthquakes since they had last been there. The floor was littered with cracks and gaps that would swallow you whole if you took one misstep. The roof above had a gaping hole, letting the light in, a large beam of sun hitting the top of the steps where the pedestal stood, where they had found the blades, and though it could not be seen at that moment, the full moon was visible through the hole, moving through the sky slowly like a watchful eye carved in silver. Day and night. Life and death. Balance.
The chamber thrummed with magic, ancient and coiled like a serpent ready to strike.
They stepped around the old, weathered statues and rising columns, moving towards the large, ancient steps rising above them.
Amelia paused at the bottom, forcing Silas to stop with her.
“Up,” Demetrius demanded.
She clenched her teeth, and before thinking on her actions, she pulled her blade out and whirled to him, pointing it. “No. You will stay right here, and Silas and I will finish this, the wayweintend.”
Silas gripped at her free arm, pulling her back a step. Then he was in front of her, his own blade out and pointing to another figure who had begun to advance, who paused when the weapon was directed at him.
Demetrius’ eyes moved to the blade Amelia held, the sharp edge aimed at the middle of his chest. His tongue darted out, moving across the edges of his teeth as he considered her. He sighed impatiently. “Do you recall what I said to you in the Sanctum?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What?” she asked with irritation.
