Page 159 of At the Mercy of Midnight
The Sanctum leader glanced between them, looking at Amelia. “What is it you’ve done?” he asked, curiosity tinging his voice. “How did you…”
“We do the original ritual,” Silas said, cutting Demetrius off and focusing on Amelia, letting the order flow into her.
She blinked at him slowly, and her lips parted only a fraction as she said dully, “yes.”
His eyes fell shut at the tone of her voice, so lifeless. He forced himself to look at her again, to see what he had done, the terrible choice he had made.
“Do you remember it in its entirety?”
“Yes.”
He pulled in a deep breath and turned away. “Come,” he said, placing her on one side of the pedestal while he moved for the other, standing opposite her.
Silas glanced again at Demetrius, who still looked curiously between them before giving an encouraging nod to start. “If I catch you trying to be clever, she dies.”
He seethed before looking back to her, hating the blank expression.
His soul trembled with it, knowing that when he was gone, when she woke from this state of compliance, that she would never forgive him for his choice. That she would spend the rest of her days hating him.
But she would live. And the world and magical balance will be restored.
His life was not worth jeopardising that, and it was something she would have to understand one day.
At least, he hoped she would. He hoped she would manage to find peace, knowing that it had beenhischoice.
Silas let his brain think of nothing but the words he would need to say, knowing that if he let his mind stray, he would comprehend these were his final moments, that he was about to leave the world before he had even begun to truly live in it.
He looked at Amelia, standing with perfect obedience, waiting for him.
He stared into her eyes, wishing for peace in her being the last thing he saw before he disappeared, but there was no clarity or peace to be found. Not in dark eyes that held no life, no spark that was so innately Amelia. She was nother, not after what he had done. And he would need to live and die on that choice.
He cleared his throat. “Alright,” he said, voice shaking even as he tried to be strong, “we begin.”
Amelia nodded her head and opened her mouth.
His heart leapt into his throat.
The ritual began.
The words spilled from Amelia’s mouth, ancient and melodic, pulled from her against her will. Silas joined in immediately, reciting the words from Bane’s journal.
The ground shook, dust falling from the ceiling as they spoke, their eyes fixated on one another.
The air itself trembled as the magic around them swelled.
A purplish light flickered around them, growing thicker as they progressed through the ancient language in perfect sequence.
Then before he knew it, the time was upon him.
Don’t think.
Just do.
But he hesitated. This next part would take him.
He would be gone, and he would never look at her face again.
“Do it,” Demetrius’ voice commanded from somewhere outside of the magical maelstrom.
