Page 160 of At the Mercy of Midnight
Swallowing, Silas reached across the pedestal and Amelia took his hand automatically, no emotion, nothing on her face.
Amelia’s magic surged around them, the air bleeding with a violet light.
There was no hesitation from her, using her siphoning ability to draw the magic from him as the ritual dictated. They kept speaking, reciting the binding incantation, the one of consuming, of connection.
The air around them roared to life.
Silas felt the energy being drawn from him as her magic tore itself through his system. His soul pulled at the seams, stretching, reaching towards something else.
A tear in the fabric of the air rippled before him, shadows pouring from it like ghostly hands reaching for him. Silas’ vision blurred and his hand shook in Amelia’s grasp.
It was almost over.
He had almost done it, saved her, saved everyone.
He could die, knowing these things.
Silas would be gone, but Amelia would remain, safe.
He watched with the last of his energy as the dark tendrils of hair flew around her head, the brown of her eyes watching him as she drew his spirit from his body.
“Live,” he choked out. “Don’t stop being the storm, Amelia. I beg you.”
She didn’t even blink at the words, her magic pulling the last of him into herself, completing the ritual in another few short seconds.
“Amelia, I lo—”
The shadows exploded around him, and he thinks he pulled in one final breath, he couldn’t be sure, because in the next moment, he was swallowed whole, and the darkness took him.
PART IV
A SONG OF BETRAYAL
Amelia
THIRTY-SIX
Amelia staggered backwards, a blast of wind buffeting her at the same moment as something snapped inside of her chest, making her gasp, clutching at her shirt.
She doubled over, gagging.
Everything stilled so suddenly around her, the silence so absolute, that she felt the shiver of something unnatural trickle down her spine.
Amelia, breathing heavily, looked up slowly. “Silas?”
She peered around the chamber, gasping at the sight around her. Silas was nowhere to be seen.
And all around her, stood stone statues, each in varying postures. Confused, she glanced around for Silas, the Sanctumfollowers, for Demetrius. But there didn’t seem to be another living soul in the chamber. She breathed out unsteadily.
Approaching the closest statue, winded and confused, she took in the hooded depiction of a person. Her heart stalled as she realised. Amelia gasped, looking around at each statue that hadn’t been there before. They were the Sanctum. They had each been turned to stone.
Her eyes fell to the other statues scattered all around the chamber, the ancient ones from hundreds of years ago. Something wanted to click into place in her mind, except she had begun to panic.
Amelia ran to each, staring into their carved faces. None of them were Silas.
But in that moment, she was panicky, unstructured.
What happened…
