The curse was a predator, and its hunting ground was Cassius’s body. It writhed on his arm, a living tattoo of blighted, blackened veins pulsing with a jaundiced orange light. I watched in horror as one tendril crept over his collarbone, a spider-like claw reaching for the pulse in his throat. We were at the heart of a stone dais, encircled by ancient runes that wept a soft, golden light. It was meant to be a sanctuary, but it felt like a cage.

He lay so still, his chest rising and falling in shallow, hitching increments. His skin, stretched taut over his bones, had the translucent gray of old wax. A question burned in my gut, cold and sharp: how long had he hidden the truth of its relentless march across his body?

I knelt, the chill of the stone seeping through my pants, a stark contrast to the fire of panic in my veins. This was the precipice. One step, and we would either fly or fall into an endless abyss. Please, I begged the silent, listening chamber, let this be enough.

I drew a breath that did nothing to steady me and let my gaze trace the lines of his face—a face I knew better than my own, now a mask of profound exhaustion. He didn’t need me to ask. His eyes, the color of a roiling sea before a storm, fluttered open and found mine. For a flicker, I saw him: the unwavering strength, the absolute trust that had been my anchor.

His hand found mine, his grip surprisingly firm. “For you,” he rasped, his voice scraped raw. “Always.” He released me and offered a faint, heroic smile that shattered my heart. Then, his eyes drifted closed. His body went rigid, every muscle locked against an agony he refused to give voice to. The curse flared in response, its light pulsing in an obscene, triumphant rhythm, as if it sensed the coming battle and relished the chance to finally devour him whole.

Taking one last, ragged breath, I sealed my eyes. “I’m starting,” I whispered, my voice a tremor in the suffocating silence.

I banished everything but the task, reaching for the core of my power. It answered, a tide of pure amethyst light swirling to life around my hands. I pushed it toward him, a wave meant to soothe and heal, but it slammed against an invisible barrier with a low, resonant thrum. The runes—the ancient magic itself—shimmered with golden light, denying me entry. I pushed again, a desperate shove born of rising terror, but the wall held, unyielding.

“Thalia.” Cassius’s voice was a strained thread, yet it cut through my panic like a blade.

My eyes snapped open. “It won’t let me in,” I choked out, frustration burning like acid.

“Don’t fight it,” he breathed, his jaw tight with the effort. “Ask. Don’t be a fist. Be… an open hand. Let it guide you.”

I nodded, the single motion a monumental effort. Seraphiel sent us here for a reason. Closing my eyes again, I retracted my power, then extended it gently toward the golden wall, not as a weapon, but as a greeting.

It met me. There was no resistance, only acceptance. Gold and amethyst light braided together, a perfect, seamless fusion of power. I felt the ancient consciousness of the runes move with me, a silent dance of two wills as one. Together, we flowed over Cassius, a warm, living blanket of magic.

And through that bond, I became his pain. I felt the frantic, rabbit-quick beat of his heart. I felt the sheen of sweat beading on his skin. I felt the low moan that vibrated in his chest before he bit it back. The curse fought us, its orange tendrils inching toward his heart with every shallowing beat, a parasite seeking its final meal. His agony echoed through our connection, and tears of empathy pricked my own eyes.

Three minutes. The count began in my mind, a merciless metronome.

His heart was a mere flutter now. His body arched in a silent scream, muscles spasming beneath his skin. I poured more of myself into the flow, trying to shield him, trying to shield myself. The orange light touched his heart.

A raw, inhuman shriek ripped from his throat. His body convulsed violently, and I shook with the effort of holding the magic steady, hot tears streaming down my face.

And then—absolute, deafening silence.

His heart was still. His lungs were empty. The screaming stopped. The ancient mana guided our combined power, weaving a fragile, protective seal around his mind as the countdown ticked on. The blood in his veins was brought to a deathly standstill. My entire body trembled, sweat stinging my eyes, but I held on, the strength of the runes a pillar at my back.

I focused on the curse. It had to be gone before I restarted his heart. But it hadn’t faded. It was an ugly, lingering stain on his skin.

One minute left. As I watched in horror, the curse surged. His blood was still, yet it moved—a blighted web spinning across his skin with impossible speed, up his jaw, down his other arm, intent on total consumption.

No. This isn’t how it was meant to end.

Thirty seconds. Doubt, a venomous cold, sank its teeth into me. He needed more time. Could I hold the shield any longer?

“No,” I snarled, the sound foreign in the quiet room. “I will not let you have him.”

Five seconds. The curse flared, a blinding nova of orange light. The mental countdown shattered into dust. We were out of time.

“More!” I gasped, shoring up the shield around his mind. Please, just break, I begged the curse, my vision blurring.

I felt a violent snap—not the curse, but the ancient mana. The golden tether was severed, leaving me terrifyingly alone. The shield around his mind was now mine to hold, and it was failing. I threw what was left of my power at his chest, a desperate, silent command for his heart to beat. It was like pushing against a mountain.

“BEAT!” I screamed, the word a raw tear in my throat, my magic raging around us in a storm of grief and fury. “CASSIUS, COME BACK TO ME!”

Silence. My strength evaporated. Black spots danced in my vision. A hopeless sob tore from my lungs, and I collapsed onto his chest, my hand still pressed over his unmoving heart. “I won’t give up,” I choked, my voice raw. “Please…”

The world dissolved into a gray haze. It took every shred of will to keep my eyes open, to keep pouring the last dregs of myself into him. My grief was a hollowed-out cavern, an abyss too empty even for tears. And into that void, something new trickled—a faint, warm tug at the edge of my awareness. It wasn’t the runes. It felt… like a missing part of myself.

With nothing left to lose, I opened my will to it.

It surged, a torrent of pure, white-gold light that met my amethyst power not with force, but with perfect recognition. They braided together, silk and starlight. It wasn’t the ancient mana. It was something deeper. A missing part of myself—familiar, steady. Alive. Him. His will, answering mine. Drawn to this new harmony, weaving a protective dome over us. Strength I no longer possessed flooded my limbs.

I pushed myself upright. The air within the dome shimmered with a kaleidoscope of impossible colors, all swirling around Cassius. I channeled the torrent into his body, aiming not to heal, but to obliterate. The orange curse shrieked, a soundless vibration of pure hatred. It was incinerated, turning to black ash that flaked away into nothingness.

The light grew brighter, and brighter, until it burst outward in a silent, cleansing pulse.

Cassius’s mouth flew open, and he took a deep, shuddering gasp of air. His eyes shot open, wide and wild—the stormy sea now cleared, calm and fathoms deep. They found mine.

“We… did it,” he whispered, his voice thin but whole.

Relief struck me with the force of a physical blow. The last of my strength vanished, and I fell forward, the darkness finally taking me. But it didn’t matter. The darkness was not an enemy, but a cradle. And in its quiet hum, a single, radiant thought: He is alive.