The moment I slipped away from Devon’s embrace, Mouriana decided to pipe up in my head, as helpful as ever.

“About time,” she drawled. “Now maybe we can address the darkness currently consuming the manor? Or were you planning to bond over tea while Wridel dies?”

I ignored her.

An unnatural cold seeped through the walls of the Le Torneau manor. Jagged snarls of black frost spread across the windows, creeping along the stone walls. The usual hum of magic that protected the estate was faint, barely a whisper, drowned out by the annoying droning sound of the veil. The shadows whispered in hushed tones, their voices carrying through the silence like a distorted melody.

“Do you feel that?” Devon asked.

I nodded, a shiver running through me. “It’s worse than before.”

“No,” he said grimly, scanning the garage. “It’s here.”

As if to punctuate his words, a sharp crack echoed from outside the garage, splitting the eerie silence. It was followed by a low, guttural laugh. The sound crawled up my spine, settling at the base of my neck like a frozen blade. With each passing second, the black frost spread faster, and the temperature dropped even more.

“The veil has finally fallen,” Mouriana said as she appeared beside me without warning. Her presence was quieter than usual. The brilliance of her true form was diminished, as if the darkness attacking the manor was leeching her strength. “This curse is feeding.”

“Feeding on what?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“Us,” Devon said. “Our magic, our strength, our’”

“Hope,” Mouriana tilted her head slightly, her eyeless gaze fixed on the frost creeping closer. “It thrives on despair. The longer it stays, the more it consumes until Wridel is barren,” she said simply.

It was hard to swallow. The Le Torneau manor had been built to withstand anything Wridel could throw at it—wars, rebellions, sieges. But now, with the frost creeping over its walls and the shadows slithering through its halls, it felt fragile. Vulnerable. If the curse had breached these walls, it meant the veil had found its way to the richest vein of magic Wridel had to offer. If it took the manor, it would devour the rest of Wridel like a starved beast.

“We can’t let this spread any further,” Devon said as he took my hand in his and squeezed it gently. “If it takes the entire Le Torneau manor, it’ll have enough to take the rest of Wridel.”

I nodded, swallowing hard as my pulse pounded in my ears. “How do we stop it?” I asked, though my gut twisted as I looked at Mouriana. I already knew I wasn’t going to like her answer.

“Not stop it,” Mouriana said. “Shatter it.”

Devon frowned. “What do you mean?”

“This isn’t like the dark veils or shadows you’ve faced before,” Mouriana explained. “The veil is whole now. It’s no longer just magic. It has become a manifestation of Wridel’s flaws—your secrets, betrayals, fears. You can’t stop it by throwing magic at it because magic feeds it. You have to break it apart. Piece by piece.”

Another crack split the air, louder this time, followed by a rush of cold that made me stagger. The frost surged forward, spreading across the floor in jagged, gleaming patterns.

“And how do we do that?” I asked as Devon moved closer to me, his heat warming me. “What, are we supposed to go on a soul-searching journey to heal the dark’s collective trauma?”

“Not quite,” Mouriana said. “But you’re not far off.”

I exhaled sharply, the sound carrying more frustration than I intended. “Then tell us what we’re supposed to do, Mouriana. Stop dancing around it.”

“The curse is already woven into the fabric of Wridel,” she said with a grim finality. “It is how The Dark works. A collective misery gives birth to it, and then it festers. It feeds. It grows, until it is whole.”

Devon’s jaw tightened, his grey eyes narrowing, but he said nothing.

“It didn’t start overnight,” Mouriana continued, her tone uncharacteristically even, and her fiery aura dimmed as if the enormity of what she was saying had dulled even her brightness. “Mythica gave it life, and the Shadow Orientals stoked it. They fanned its flames, fed its hunger until it became nearly unstoppable.”

“Nearly,” I said sharply, latching onto the word like a lifeline. “You said “nearly.” That means there’s a way to stop it.”

She turned to me then. The flicker of hope I’d dared to feel vanished as her featureless gaze turned on me. “There is,” she said, “but it won’t be what you want to hear.”

My heart clenched. “Tell me.”

“To destroy it,” she said slowly, carefully, as if speaking the words aloud might make them more real, “I’m afraid you, Celeste, will have to go into The Dark.”

Her words almost choked me. I barely had time to process them before Devon exploded.

“Absolutely not!” he barked. He turned to Mouriana, his fury radiating in waves. “It could consume her.”

“But she is the only one who can,” she said, her tone devoid of doubt, as if the conclusion were inevitable.

I blinked, my mind spinning. “What do you mean, the only one?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.

“You already touched it,” Mouriana said. “And unlike you, Devon, the dark didn’t try to consume her or reject her—it bent to her. Celeste Le Torneau is the only hybrid Oriental witch in this era. The dark is seduced by her potential, and it is the only way we can shatter it.”

I stared at her, mulling her words as she continued. “You’ve felt it,” she said to me. “The pull. The way the shadows respond to you. That’s why it let you leave. It doesn’t see you as a threat. It sees you as one of its own.”

I didn’t respond. What was there to say?

Mouriana just continued. “Everyone else within these walls is already fading. You’ve seen it, Celeste. The darkness creeping into their veins, the shadows draining their light. A few more hours, and even Devon will begin to weaken. His resistance has only bought him time, not immunity. Only you are truly immune because the dark wants you.”

I turned to Devon. His jaw was clenched so tightly that the muscles in his neck strained, his fists trembling at his sides. If he could have destroyed Mouriana with a look, she’d have been ash by now.

“The curse will take everything. Everyone but you. You are the only one who can command the dark,” she finally finished.

Ah. There it was. This was why Gaia had made me capable of wielding both fire and water—two opposing forces bound in one person. To be a martyr. I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I looked at Devon. There was no way I could refuse, no way I could stand by and watch Wridel be swallowed by this darkness.

“No,” Devon said quietly. “I won’t let her.”

I stepped closer to him, and the movement was almost instinctive, as if my body needed his warmth against the cold reality of what I needed to do. “Devon,” I said softly. “If it’s the only way’”

“It’s not,” he cut me off as his eyes burned with equal parts rage and desperation. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t,” Mouriana interjected, cutting through Devon’s denial. “This isn’t a fight you can win your way, General. The dark isn’t something you can kill. We must shatter. And only she has the means.”

I stood there, torn between the two of them, my head pounding with everything they were saying.

“What happens if we don’t stop it?” I asked such a stupid question, and I didn’t know if it was the fear of my possibly dying that forced it out.

Mouriana turned her featureless face to me, her sparkle fading, and I was starting to suspect that the curse was feeding on her too. “If we don’t stop it here, it will move beyond these walls. The manor will fall first, then it will move on to the Irving Island and with it, Wridel’s strongest defence. The curse will spread into the rest of Ostonia, devouring everything in its path. Your people, your kingdom—they will all fall.”

Devon’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. “You can’t do this,” he said, his voice breaking on the last word. “I won’t let you.”

I took a breath, forcing steel into my spine. “I have to,” I said with a heavy huff. “If it’s me or everyone else, there’s no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” he said fiercely. “We hold the line. We find another way.”

“And how many more will die while we look for it?” I asked, my voice rising as the emotions I’d been holding back spilled over. “How much more will Wridel lose before you admit this is the only way?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His grip on my wrist loosened slightly, his shoulders sagging as the fight bled out of him.

“You can’t ask me to watch you do this,” he said quietly. “You can’t ask me to let you go.”

“I’m not asking,” I said softly, placing my free hand over his. “This is what I have to do. And stop sounding like it is a death sentence. I don’t intend to die in there.”

His hand tightened around mine. “Celeste’”

“It’s okay,” I said, though it wasn’t. Not really. “You just have to trust me.”

Mouriana stepped close and extended her hand. In her palm, a necklace shimmered into existence—a blood-red talisman set in a metal frame that looked foreboding. “I was only able to fashion one of these,” she said. “It will protect your physical body while you fight the dark. But your mate must remain here to keep the portal open. Without someone anchoring the gateway, there will be no way for you to return.”

Devon stared at the talisman like it had personally insulted him. “That’s not an option. I am going with her.”

“It is the only option,” Mouriana countered. “If you go with her, you will doom her. And Wridel. The portal will collapse, and both of you will be lost to the void. Is that what you want?”

Devon’s grip on my hand tightened to the point of pain, but I didn’t pull away. Through the bond, I felt the maelstrom raging inside him—fear, frustration, a suffocating protectiveness that made my chest ache.

“Devon,” I said softly, forcing him to look at me. His eyes locked onto mine with great effort. “She’s right. I need you here.”

His brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a hard line. “I don’t like this,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Neither do I,” I admitted, even as the fear clawed at my chest. “But this is how we stop it. This is how we shatter the dark.”

I reached up, stroking his face with a trembling hand. His skin was warm, grounding me against the cold reality of what I was about to do. I kept my mind clear, my heart hollow, focusing on the task instead of the fear slowly building inside me.

Mouriana stepped forward, the talisman still in her palm. “The curse feeds on despair and fear, but it also thrives on lies. The dark will try you, Celeste. It will taunt you and try to unravel you piece by piece so that you lose your way and forget why you’re there. That’s its nature.” She paused. “But you are stronger than it. Remember that.”

Stronger. Sure. I’d cling to that thought while something primordial tried to tear me apart, limb by limb, thought by thought. I forced myself to nod, though my hands felt like lead as I reached out and took the talisman. The blood-red surface gleamed darkly, cold against my palm. The instant it touched my skin, a shiver of recognition ran through me, as if the object knew me.

Mythica.

The name whispered through my mind and my gaze snapped to Mouriana, and though her face betrayed nothing—it couldn’t—I could feel her silence. It screamed louder than any words.

I swallowed hard, the taste of dread thick on my tongue. “What aren’t you telling me?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.

“For someone without eyes,” I said, forcing a bitter laugh, “you’re staring at me awfully hard.”

Mouriana said nothing, and her stillness was more unnerving than any words she could have said. The talisman vibrated in my hand, pulsing with the dark energy of Mythica. A witch’s beating heart, torn from its source and crafted into a weapon. It was the most potent talisman I’d ever seen.

For once, I couldn’t tell if Mouriana was brilliant or utterly insane.

“We should go before Mother tries to stop you,” Camille said. I turned toward the doorway and found her standing there, her blade resting lightly against her shoulder. How long had she been there? “They’re in the main hall. Their strength is starting to wane.”

I hesitated, my gaze wandering toward the hall where they were. “I should say goodbye,” I whispered.

“You shouldn’t,” Mouriana urged.

“You cannot,” Camille added as she stepped into the room. “Mother will discern what you intend to do. She’ll stop you. And if she does, Wridel will fall.”

The finality in her words turned my stomach, but I nodded. I’d already made my choice.

“Come on,” Camille said. “We need to go to the courtyard, directly under it, to send you in.”

Devon was still holding my hand, his grip firm but not desperate. Not yet. He didn’t say anything as we walked, even as I felt his emotions. Anger. Fear. Helplessness. The last one nearly broke me.

We reached the courtyard, though calling it that now felt generous. The space I’d known most of my life—a sanctuary of marble statues, vibrant gardens, and gentle fountains—was gone, swallowed by the curse. What remained was a distorted ruin.

The darkness had taken form, coalescing into a swirling mass of red fog that filled the compound, twisting into grotesque, writhing shapes. It was hard to see more than a few feet ahead, but maybe that was a blessing. What little I could see was already enough to make my chest tighten.

It wasn’t just shadow any more. It was blood and smoke fused in an unholy dance. Every ripple emitted an insatiable hunger. And in that silence, the fog grew louder, every hiss clawing at my eardrums.

Mouriana took the lead, moving through the haze like it was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. She raised a hand, her fingers gliding in a smooth arc. An energy shield appeared around us, black and crackling, pulsating with power.

Streams of black lightning snaked along it. Each strike of lightning against the dense fog produced a hiss like burning flesh. The shield forced a narrow path through the fog, but it didn’t give up. It fought back, surging forward, pressing against the barrier, testing it, probing for weakness. Every attempt was met with a crackling bolt of black lightning that pushed back harder, clearing our way with unerring force.

I glanced at Devon beside me with his arm around my waist. His jaw was set and his gaze sharp as it swept the fog, but he said nothing. Not as Mouriana led us deeper. Not as the air grew colder, heavier, more suffocating with each step. Not even as the fog thickened to the point where the shield’s lightning began to struggle.

We were in the belly of it now.

The courtyard was gone, swallowed entirely by the curse, replaced by an endless void of blood and shadow. The ground felt unstable, the familiar stone replaced by a slick thing, as if it might crumble underfoot at any moment. Every step sent a faint tremor rippling through the space.

The malevolence here was clear as day and oppressive. It wasn’t just darkness—it was rage. A seething, violent fury that radiated from every inch of the cursed space. It pressed against my skin, slithered into my mind, whispered in the corners of my thoughts. I could feel it trying to push me into the same despair that had birthed it.

“This is it,” Mouriana said, but I didn’t need her to tell me. I felt it. “The heart of the dark.”

I swallowed hard, clutching the talisman in my hand until its edges bit into my palm. “It feels” alive.”

“It is,” Mouriana said simply, as if that explained everything.

Devon’s voice was a low growl beside me. “And you’re sending her in alone?”

Mouriana turned to him. “If there were another way, I would take it. But there isn’t.”

“Convenient,” Devon muttered.

“She won’t be alone. The faerie will be with her. I shall remain here with you, to keep the shield alive and the portal open,” Camille told him.

“That isn’t good enough!” he growled.

“Stop,” I said, more sharply than I intended. “This isn’t helping.”

He looked at me, his jaw tight, but he said nothing.

Mouriana stepped closer and her form flickered as if the curse was testing her strength too. That bothered me. “This is where we enter.”

“And how exactly do I shatter it?” I asked, genuinely because I didn’t understand how she expected me to do that.

Her silence was answer enough. Of course, she didn’t know.

Of course, I was going in blind and we’d figure things out as we go.

I took a deep breath. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Devon didn’t let go of my hand until the last possible moment, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my throat tighten. “Come back to me,” he said, the words more command than plea.

I wanted to tell him I would. That I wasn’t afraid. That everything would be fine. But instead I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

Mouriana raised both hands, and the air in front of us rippled like water. The portal roared to life, a swirling void of shadow and blue light that pulsed with a wickedness I could feel in my bones.

This was it.

Then, clutching the talisman like a lifeline, I stepped into the dark.