Sera sank to her knees and sobbed into her hands. “You took me from her,” she cried.

  Alistair knelt in front of her. He bit his cheek and ignored the pain of her magic running over him. “He was going to kill you, Sera. I couldn’t let him,” he said as softly as he could, daring to push the stray curls away from her face. His fingers burned from her skin, but he didn’t stop. She was barely breathing between sobs. He put his arms around her, and she fell into him.

  It was never Snik.

  When Alistair arrived in the tunnel, he’d fallen to his knees in agony, his magic sucked from him. He’d tried to travel before it was gone, but it was no use. Beside him Sera’s pack had been strewed all over the cave. He’d found the summoning stone, noticing the hairline crack, but no Sera. Following the sound of a fight, he’d watched as a foul beast slashed through demons. Close to a hundred lay dead at his feet. He didn’t know how, but he knew that beast was Vasso, something he’d thought was possible only in horror stories. In all his years as the Mesar, he’d never come across the beast form of a demon lord.

  But then… but then… Seraphina had unleashed her true power. Such lethal accuracy. In that moment, she had looked like a goddess of death.

  Al had almost fallen to his knees for her. But then that demon had her throat.

  There had been no magic in his veins. There wasn’t a chance he could have fought him with just a sword. But fuck, he had wanted to.

  He’d followed the demons as they dragged Sera’s and Vasso’s bodies from the room, keeping a fair distance between them to give him time to assess. By the time he found the throne room, the trap was set.

  The closer he got to her, the more magic he could feel seep into his veins. When she stumbled toward Nora, he watched Supay pull a sword from thin air. Then he ran.

  By the grace of Shadow herself, the rest of his magic surged back, and he traveled to her.

  He was sure his legs were covered in boils. There were welts on his cheek from her, but he stayed silent and stroked her hair. “Dominick needs you,” he whispered. “He’s not well, and Sera, I need you to pull back your magic for me.”

  She rasped, “Oh, Al, I’m so sorry.” In a moment, the mist was gone, and she looked at him, frightened. “You’re not going to tell, are you?”

  “We have much bigger issues at the moment. We’ll get to Nora, I promise, but I need you to help Dominick.”

  Sera sniffled and wiped her face and nose with her hands. “Okay,” she said, her voice rawer than it had been inside the throne room.

  He grabbed her hand and led her to the bathing chamber. “You’re caked with blood, Minnow,” he said softly. He ran a bath and left the room, giving her privacy.

  She had demon blood. There was no denying it. Demon blood and fucking demon magic.

  He was teaching her.

  The thought echoed through him, accompanied by a cold sweat. She had only just revealed her power, but Vasso had trained her. Al almost laughed at the fact that he wasn’t the only one who had kept secrets.

  Sera cracked the door, wearing one of his Legion tunics. His stomach tightened at the sight of her. She looked like a dream, one he had envisioned for weeks, and now, knowing what she really was, one he understood would never come true.

  Shaking his head, he led her to the door and knocked. Dom didn’t respond. He’d kill the healer if she hadn’t checked in on him like he’d asked. He wasn’t fit to be alone.

  “Let me try.” Sera cracked the door. “Dom?” she said. The figure on the bed didn’t move at the sound of her voice. Sera crossed the room, climbed into bed, and held Dominick to her chest. The warlock’s shoulders shook.

  At least he was alive.

  Closing the door, Al left the two to heal each other.

  He needed to inform Thorne of the imminent transfer of power and how that could affect magic. But walking through the halls, he couldn’t get the image of her black, flaming hands and mist from his mind.

  She shared fucking power with the future king of Gehenna.

  Alistair found Thorne investigating the exit near the training area where he’d watched Sera sneak out on more than one occasion.

  “This leads above ground?” Thorne asked in her pragmatic way.

  “Sera can open it. I’ve seen her do it.” He wouldn’t tell Thorne yet how.

  “You found her, then?”

  He nodded.

  “Good. Tomorrow, we can begin planning.” Thorne turned, facing back toward the main chambers.

  “Wait, Thorne.” He turned to follow her. “While helping Sera, I obtained information indicating that a power transfer will soon occur in the demon realm.”

  Thorne pursed her lips but didn’t look at him. “The master oracle told us that a few months ago. Do you know who it is?”

  He swallowed. “The owner of this keep.”

  She stopped short and whirled on him. “You mean to tell me we are stationed in the king of Gehenna’s personal manor?”

  “He’s an ally,” Al said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. All he wanted to do was sleep, but Thorne had taken a double shift while he was gone. “Plus, we have something he wants.”

  “What is that?” Thorne asked.

  “Seraphina.”

  “What would a demon king want with a low-level witch?”

  “More than you know,” Alistair answered.

  Chapter seventy-six

  Dominick

  Dominick thought he had imagined Sera’s voice. Since washing Theo, he’d started hearing things that weren’t there. Whispers and calls. He was going mad.

  It wasn’t until her arms were around him, when she whispered in his ear that she missed and loved him, that he believed she was real. At that moment, he fell apart, and she held him as he broke.

  He didn’t know how long they’d lain together crying. After a while, Seraphina started to talk. He listened to her talk about her time with the demon lord, about her sister, about the oracle who’d erupted into blue light.

  When she was done, he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  Dominick choked on his words when he told her of Theo, how he had been beaten and brutalized for two days. As he and Alistair had rushed to get him out of the tower, and how Dom had cradled his corpse long after Theo took his last breath, praying to Shadow to bring him back.

  Sera cried for him, cried because he didn’t have tears left when he described his brother’s burning, how his parents were now trapped in the Citadel. But when he was done, a small weight had been lifted from him. Minimal compared to the boulder that still held him down, but it was something.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he croaked. A headache had formed behind his eyes from everything he had put his exhausted body through the past few days. “Will you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Always,” she whispered. “But you need to wash. You’re ripe.”

  “All right,” he said and made his way to the bathing chamber. His bones ached. He felt like he’d aged a century in a month. Removing his clothes, he glanced at himself in the mirror.

  He was in bad shape. Lowering himself into the hot water, he soaked his aching bones and closed his eyes.

  Upon opening them, he screamed at the witch standing before him. “Who the fuck are you?”

  The witch smiled.

  Sera burst through the door. “Everything okay?”

  “No.” He pointed to the corner and covered himself with his other hand. “Who is this witch?”

  “Where?”

  “Right there.” He pointed again. The witch smiled at him and raised a brow.

  “Dom, I don’t see anyone.”

  “Tell her it’s Ophelia,” the witch said, her voice ethereal, something dark and other about it.

  Dominick stared at the strange witch, then back at Sera. “She said her name is Ophelia?” Sera’s eyes went wide as she looked to the corner.

  “Dom, she’s dead. That’s the oracle I was telling you about.”

  He watched the shade in front of him roll her eyes. She wasn’t even see-through. Shades were supposed to be see-through, right? Ophelia was wearing oracle robes, her hair long, her face no longer battered and bruised. He hadn’t even recognized her as the witch he’d seen on that platform.

  “Tell her that I am fully aware of what happened, and she needn’t remind me.” Ophelia straightened her robes.

  He repeated her words to Sera. Seraphina just rolled her eyes in return.

  Dom cleared his throat. “I need you both to leave.”

  Sera nodded and closed the door behind her. The witch in front of him raised her brow. “You sure I can’t watch?” the shade said.

  Dominick responded through gritted teeth. “Sorry, babe, you’re not my type.”

  “Suit yourself.” The oracle shrugged and left.

  “Wait!” he pleaded. “Theo, can I see Theo?”

  Ophelia’s eyes grew sad. “Maybe one day,” she said and disappeared.

  Dom hated to admit it, but the bath did feel good. It hadn’t brightened his spirits, but it did ease some of the ache in his bones. He wrapped a towel around his waist and inspected the clothes that Sera had laid out for him.

  “These are too big,” he said.

  “They’re Al’s. I refuse to let you put on dirty clothes.” She held his gray robes an arm’s length away and dropped them outside the door, apparently for a demonic laundry service. “Where’s Ophelia?”

  “Not here.”

  Sera huffed. “I know where she’ll be.”

  Dominick followed Sera through the halls. He held his breath as he gazed at the mirrored pool. The far wall was illuminated by moonstone, a rare rock said to be found at the bottom of the ocean. Its glow bounced off the walls, making the chamber feel almost holy. There, at the center of the pool, was Ophelia.

  “She’s here,” he said. Sera looked to the center platform, giving the shade a small smile as if she could see her. “The pool is magnificent,” he said. “How long has it been here?”

  “I’m not sure. Before the war started, that’s for sure, but I was never able to determine an exact date,” Ophelia answered. “Maybe you will.”

  “I’ll let the two of you get acquainted,” Sera said, leaving him alone with the ghost.

  He admired the colors twisting beneath the surface and stepped next to Ophelia.

  “What have you learned from the master oracle?”

  “Not much. Weather predictions, crop yields—I had just been moved to lifelines before we ended up here.” He swallowed at the thought. The only reason he’d been promoted was because Theo had been imprisoned.

  “Seems like I’ll be stuck here longer than I thought.” Ophelia threw her hands up in defeat.

  “Why haven’t you moved on?”

  “Never mind,” she said and motioned to the pool. “Pull a life.”

  Dominick raised his arms and closed his eyes. A red column formed, extending from the pool to the cave ceiling. He let out a breath. His mother was still safe and alive.

  “Good, pull your father now.”

  “How did you—”

  “Don’t ask, warlock,” she snapped before he could finish his thought. “Just do.”

  Dominick pulled a new column of blue. His father had frayed ends, gaps, and damage to the threads. His brow furrowed.

  “Hmm, not so good,” Ophelia said.

  She instructed him to use his magic repeatedly, requesting the lives of people he knew and some he didn’t.

  “This was a good test,” she said. “Get some rest. We’ll start fresh tomorrow.”

  Dominick walked back to his room. Theo’s face kept popping into his mind. The way he laughed, his lopsided grin. A wave of grief washed over him, heavy as an anvil, and he burst into tears.

  He opened the bedroom door to find Sera curled on her side, already asleep. They’d been through so much together, and then apart. He was certain more was to come—more death, brutality, and war. His father wasn’t well, if those threads were any indication. He needed Al to get his parents out as soon as possible.

  He swallowed his tears and snuck into bed, trying hard not to disturb her. Just before he closed his eyes, he heard Theo whisper his name.

  Frantic, he looked for the voice, willing him to materialize. “Theo?” he whispered. No one was there.

  Lying in bed, he let his tears soak the pillow. Dominick focused on Sera’s breathing. He wasn’t alone, not with Seraphina here. And after a time, he drifted to sleep.

  Chapter seventy-seven

  Seraphina

  The soles of her feet padded against the stone manor floor. It was quiet. Most of the coven members that Alistair had saved—almost fifty of them—were still asleep. It was late, but she’d awoken to the barest hint of a pull in her chest. She told herself it was a phantom pain. That it had been too long without him.

  Still, Sera had not grieved him. She refused.

  She bottled all that emotion up and pushed it down while she took care of Dominick. When she met with Alistair and Chair Thorne, she learned about the dysfunction and the role her mother had played with the Council. The deaths. The aliato placing themselves in a throne. It was all so backward.

  Over the last three days, she had found no books or records on regeneration. And with each passing hour… her hope dwindled.

  It had been days, and she’d found nothing.

  But then there was another tug.

  As soon as she snuck out of the room she shared with Dom, Sera threw out her mist in a wiry tendril and let it lead her.

  She followed the smoke as it curved down a hall she’d never seen before. It was warmer in this part of the manor. The tunnels looked newly carved. As she turned down a new hall, a set of black doors appeared. Shadows and black flames encircled the frame. Carved depictions of demons and castle guardians adorned the doors. The handle was cool to the touch, but it wouldn’t turn.

  “I wonder…” Sera blew an ember at the stone doors. The flame joined the flickers beside it, and just like the exit to the training grounds, the door slid open.

  Sera let out a cry when she realized where she was.

  Sandalwood and ash breezed by her—a familiar haunting she’d thought she’d never smell again.

  A rich desk was piled high with books and ledgers. Fur rugs were strategically placed around the room between chairs and other sitting areas. A chandelier lit and began to dance across the ceiling.

  On the far side of the room was a four-poster bed. More demon forms were carved into the posts. The sheets were black satin, and Sera laughed to herself, wiping her nose on her sleeve. Of course he’d have satin sheets.

  Rich tapestries lined the walls on either side of the bed, depicting scenes from the first battles—ones she had seen only in the oldest books in the keeper wing. A closet door cracked, and Sera went inside. She breathed in his scent. Rack after rack of black evening wear, training leathers, and shirts lined the walls. She found one of Vasso’s gray satin sleeping shirts in a drawer and slipped it on.

  Sera padded her way to the bed and curled up in his sheets. His scent, his closeness—it was the first time she’d been able to take a deep breath since leaving him behind.

  Things had gotten so muddled. Not that anything in her life had been easy, but Vasso had changed her. He had made her better, stronger. A lasting mark that she’d have till the end of her days. But what she wouldn’t give to have him here with her now.

  Her hand glided over the satin pillowcase.

  Thump.

  She gasped.

  Thump.

  Sera ran her hand over her chest. The manor began to shake, and the chandelier above her swung violently. Small pebbles fell from the stone ceiling.

  She cried at the rushing heat that sparkled through her chest, then laughed when she felt the threads she’d thought had disappeared start to knit themselves back together. They crisscrossed through the chambers of her heart. A flash of power ripped through the stone, the continent, the planet.

  Power—his power—buzzed through her limbs. More than she’d ever held within her body before. A well with no bottom somehow dove deeper.

  Sera choked back tears and spoke aloud, for no one but Shadow to hear.

  “He’s alive."

  Epilogue

  Vasso

  The way magic ripples through a planet when a new King comes to power is so destructive that one may ask why that planet would wish for it in the first place.

  Why, when demons are already so close to being immortal, would Eraphon choose to crack herself wide for a new ruler of her people? One might never know unless they spoke directly with the world herself.

  Wake.

  He stirred. For so long, he’d buried that voice down. Deep into the cracks of his subconscious, she stayed buried, only speaking to him in his dreams. But this pain. He wasn’t dreaming. He was reborn.

  Water dripped from the ceiling above. It trickled down the walls, carrying sediment and minerals from the rivers and lakes far above.

  I said, Wake, King Vasilios.

  Sour coated his mouth and tongue. A reverberating ache and searing burn coursed through his arms and legs. Someone had killed him, and thus he had regenerated.

  But how?

  It does not matter how, only that you are whole.

  “Ugh,” Vasso groaned into an empty black cavern. It was a chore to turn onto his side. “I didn’t agree to let you out of your hole, Eraphon.”

  You have no choice now, Vasilios. You are of full power; we are one.

  “Let me find a knife, and I’ll remedy that.”

  Eraphon went silent, and Vasso chuckled to himself, despite the throbbing in his head. Each new breath brought a deeper ache to his lungs. How much had he grown in this new generation?

  His groans echoed off the walls back to him. The sound stirred a commotion of light and shuffling from the cave entrance. Vasso squinted against the oncoming torches. The shades, although curious, quickly scattered from the procession of demons.