Page 302 of Cursed Evermore
“I do, but Bastian is?—”
“Bastian will do his best, but he is not you, my son.” She drew in a breath that sounded like rushing waves. “The enemy will kill your Bloodsworn and take your Elariya. They'll use her to findthe ring by whatever means, then kill her when she is no longer useful to them.”
I thought of my Elariya. Those warm eyes that always looked at me like I was something worth saving. Her heart that beat with so much life when she was happy. Her soul that spoke to mine.
And if she died... all of that would be gone. Just another memory to haunt me, like my mother. Like Zyrra. Like Father.
She'd become another name carved into the endless list of everything I had lost.
I couldn't bear it. Not with her. I wouldn't.
“I can't let her die. I won't let that happen to my mage.” I spoke with newfound determination, setting aside the despair that had brought me here.
No matter what I felt, I had to be what Elariya needed to protect her.
Mother smiled. “Then go and fight and live. Live for me. Live for all of us, and do not allow death to take you.”
Her form began to unravel, strands of silver pulling away into the storm.
“Mother.” I reached out to her.
She reached back, our fingertips barely brushing. “I'm always with you, my beautiful boy. Always. Now go.”
She faded, taking the Nyzith strands with her, but her warmth lingered, a sensation I had never felt before.
I lifted my gaze to the crackling lightning above. The weight that had chained me only moments ago loosened its grip. In its place surged something I hadn't felt in years.
Purpose.
My mother's warmth still lingered within me, steadying the chaos, reminding me I was more than my curse, more than my shadows.
It was time to go and fight. For my mage.
I'd once vowed to burn the kingdom to ashes if I couldn't have her. Now, more than ever, I knew I would.
Not even the gods could save anyone who stood in my way.
Chapter 61
Elariya
“The Bonded and The Whole”
Sleep had abandoned me hours ago, leaving me to wander the hollow corridors of this strange house like a restless spirit. Everyone else had long since retired, but no matter how hard I’d tried, rest refused to come.
The floorboards didn’t creak beneath my bare feet. Nothing in this place behaved as it should. Even the shadows seemed wrong—too thick, too permanent, clinging to the walls as though painted there.
I drew my shawl tighter around my shoulders. Not for warmth; the air was temperate. The soft wool was comfort enough, carrying the faintest trace of Wolfe’s scent. The only piece of him I had left.
I descended the stairs slowly, my hand trailing the banister. Endless twilight greeted me at the bottom, spilling through the window like a muted veil.
At least it was night now. The house looked as it should. But night meant another day was gone. I had only a few hours left of this one, then three more days before the reset.
Gods, I tried not to think about time, but it was impossible. My journals suggested I had always been like this in the final days, month after month, year after year. But this time was different. Worse. I had never been in love before and never carried the weight of my own guilt pressing like stone against my chest.
Nothing brought me comfort. Even thinking hurt, each thought was another shard twisting in my skull. My mind drifted from one thing to the next like a summer butterfly too restless to land.
And more often than not, it circled back to Zyrra.
