Shadows Entwined (Shadows Descent #3)

5. Violet

5

VIOLET

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, my arms feeling like lead after the sewing ordeal. “Stake him and suffer the consequences.”

“Hey,” Caine snaps, glaring at me. “If you don’t want to do it, then fine.”

“I do,” I say weakly. “You know I do, but without the severing ritual, we all know it’s not going to be easy.”

“Then we do the ritual,” Thorne says. “I didn’t spend days poring over that fucking spell for it all to be for naught.”

“Naught?” I choke back a laugh. “Oh, okay, Shakespeare. We wouldn’t want thine worketh to all be for naught.”

He gives me the finger, but there is a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Do we have time?” I ask, feeling Morgan’s gaze on me.

“Yes,” Caine states, but I think he would say that even if we didn’t.

I look at Flint, who has been unusually quiet about this situation. “You okay?”

Flint’s eyes meet mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. “I’m fine,” he says softly. “Just worried about you.”

I reach up to cup his cheek. “I’ll be okay. We’ll get through this.”

He nods, but I can see the concern hasn’t left his eyes.

“The ritual will be dangerous,” Morgan warns suddenly. “It will require immense power and concentration, and it will leave you vulnerable.”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “I know. But it’s the only way to truly end this.”

“We’ll protect her,” Thorne says firmly. “Nothing will touch her while she’s performing the ritual.”

Caine nods in agreement, his grip tightening on his cane. “Damn straight.”

With effort, I push myself to my feet, my legs still shaky but holding. Flint keeps a steadying hand on my elbow.

“Let’s go end this,” I say, my voice stronger than I feel.

“Wait,” Thorne says, holding out his hand, his gaze on Morgan. “How did you know the ritual would be dangerous? How do you know what we’re talking about?”

Frowning, I stare at her as she lifts her chin to glare at Thorne.

“That spell is mine.”

We’ve had some showstopping moments over the last few weeks, but that one takes the cake.

“What?” I mutter. “Yours?”

She nods briefly. “I had cause to want what the spell offers.” She turns and marches off, leaving us all gaping after her and then racing to catch up.

“Hang on,” Thorne snarls. “You can’t just drop that bomb and then walk away.”

“I can and I will. It has nothing to do with you. I can help you with the ritual. That is all you need to know.” Her tone is like steel, leaving absolutely no room for us to question her further. Not that I’d want to. As curious as I am, she’s right. It’s none of our business.

“Do you know the precise time of your turning,” she asks me after a moment.

“Yes. 12:17 am.”

“Good, we’ll have to perform the ritual at that precise moment.”

“We know,” Thorne grits out, his arse really chapped by this news.

I slip my hand into his and give it a squeeze. “You feel like you did all this work when you didn’t have to. That’s not the case. We needed the time, the ingredients, we needed to know. Having Morgan here doesn’t change any of that.”

Thorne’s jaw clenches, but he nods reluctantly. “You’re right. I just hate feeling like we wasted time.”

“We didn’t,” I assure him. “Everything we’ve done has led us to this point. We’re as prepared as we can be.”

We trek back through the frozen forest, and the landscape is somehow less surreal now that our task at the Nexus is complete. The tears in reality we’d seen on our way in seem to have mended, the air no longer shimmering with wild magick, but I’d be a fool to think that was the end of it.

As we near the edge of the forest, I can see MistHallow in the distance, still encased in Caine’s ice.

“So, what’s the plan when we get back?” Flint asks.

“We prepare for the ritual,” Morgan says. “Gather the ingredients and set up the circle. And then we sever the bond. Are you sure this is what you want to do, Violet? It will take an enormous toll on you, and you are already tired.”

“Yes, it has been the plan all along. We do this tonight.”

As we approach the Academy, I can feel the tension building. This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting weeks for. A pang of nerves shoots through me, but I push it aside. Nothing will go wrong. It can’t.

Blackthorn meets us at the entrance, his face grave. “Welcome back. I trust your mission was successful?”

Morgan nods. “The veils have been strengthened. But our work is not done yet.”

He nods stiffly, and we follow him across the campus grounds.

As we enter MistHallow, the familiar halls feel different somehow. The air is charged with expectation, as if the stones of the academy know what’s coming.

“We need to move quickly,” Morgan says. “Midnight is approaching.”

Blackthorn nods grimly. “What do you need?”

“A secure location for the severing ritual,” I say. “Somewhere Nathaniel can’t interfere.”

“The Vault,” he suggests. “It’s the most heavily warded place in the academy.”

“Perfect. We’ll need the ingredients for the ritual, too.”

“I’ll gather them,” Caine volunteers. “I know where everything is.”

“Good,” Morgan says. “Violet, you should rest while you can. The ritual will require all of your strength.”

Part of me wants to argue, to insist on helping with the preparations. But I can feel the bone-deep exhaustion from our work at the Nexus. I know she’s right.

“Okay,” I concede. “But don’t let me fall asleep.”

Flint squeezes my hand. “I’ll stay with you.”

We follow Blackthorn through the winding, corridors of MistHallow, descending deeper into the underground chambers. The pathways are frozen, and the trek is slippery. After a few minutes, he stops in front of an enormous, circular iron door.

“The Vault,” he says.

It is an imposing sight. The massive iron door is covered in intricate runes and sigils, pulsing faintly with contained power. As Blackthorn begins the complex unlocking process, I lean heavily against Flint, fighting to keep my eyes open.

The door swings open with a ponderous groan, revealing a cavernous circular chamber beyond. The walls are lined with shelves containing artefacts and tomes of immense power. All unfrozen.

“This will do nicely,” Morgan says, her eyes sweeping the room approvingly.

Caine returns, arms laden with the ritual ingredients. “Got everything we need,” he announces.

“Good,” Morgan nods. “Let’s begin the preparations.”

As the others busy themselves setting up the ritual circle, Flint guides me to a corner.

“Rest,” he insists gently. “Just for a little while. We’ll wake you when it’s time.”

Too exhausted to argue further, I nod and sink gratefully onto the ground. As my eyes drift closed, I catch glimpses of the others working - Thorne and Caine carefully arranging candles and herbs, Morgan inscribing intricate symbols on the floor, Blackthorn consulting an ancient tome. The last thing I see before sleep claims me is Flint’s worried face watching over me.

I jolt awake to Flint gently shaking my shoulder. “It’s time,” he says softly.

Groggily, I push myself up, blinking away the remnants of sleep. The Vault has been transformed. An elaborate ritual circle dominates the centre of the room, surrounded by flickering candles and bowls of herbs. The air is thick with incense and the hum of contained power.

“How long was I out?” I ask, my voice rough.

“Half an hour,” Flint replies. “It’s midnight.”

Morgan approaches. “Are you ready, little flower?”

I nod, steeling myself. “As I’ll ever be.”

She guides me to the centre of the circle. “Remember, once we begin, you must not break concentration. The bond between you and Nathaniel will fight back. It will try to overwhelm you, to make you stop. You must push through, no matter what. I will warn you now that the chances of him breaking out of Caine’s ice cage are high.”

“I understand,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

Caine slaps a stake into my hand. “You are the only one who can kill him. Are you ready?”

I nod and grip the wood tightly.

“We’ll be right here,” Thorne says firmly. “Nothing will interfere. If he arrives, we will stop him no matter what.”

I gulp at that. I really hope he stays encased in ice until I’m ready to drive this stake through his heart.

The others take up positions around the perimeter. Flint, Thorne, and Caine forming a protective triangle with Morgan at the helm. Blackthorn stands guard by the door.

“Remember,” Morgan says, her voice low and intense. “No matter what you see or hear, do not stop. The bond will fight back. It will try to deceive you, to make you hesitate. You must push through.”

I nod, gripping the stake tightly. “I’m ready.”

Morgan begins to chant in a language I don’t recognise, but I guess it must be Fae because she is reading from the book Thorne has been working from. Her voice resonates with power, echoing around the chamber. The candles flare brighter, their flames stretching impossibly high. The air grows thick and heavy, charged with magick.

As Morgan’s chanting grows louder, I feel a tugging sensation in my chest. It’s as if an invisible cord is being pulled taut. I grit my teeth against the discomfort, forcing myself to focus on Morgan’s voice.

Suddenly, Nathaniel stands in front of me, looking exactly as he did the day he turned me.

“Violet,” he says, his voice achingly familiar. “What are you doing? Stop this madness.”

I shake my head, tightening my grip on the stake. “You’re not real. This isn’t real.”

Nathaniel’s face twists with anger. “How dare you? After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?”

I close my eyes, trying to block out his voice. It sounds so real, so close. But I know it’s just the bond trying to trick me.

Morgan’s chanting grows louder, more insistent. The tugging in my chest intensifies, becoming a sharp, burning pain. I gasp, nearly doubling over.

“Stop this, Violet!” Nathaniel shouts. “You’re killing us both!”

I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze defiantly. “No. I’m freeing myself.”

With a snarl of rage, Nathaniel lunges at me. I brace myself for impact, but he passes through me like smoke. The illusion shatters, leaving me alone in the circle again.

The pain in my chest grows unbearable. It feels like my heart is being torn in two. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as I struggle to remain conscious.

“Hold on, Violet!” I hear Flint call out, his voice sounding distant and muffled. “You’re almost there!”

I cling to the sound of his voice, using it as an anchor. The world around me blurs and shifts.

“This is who you really are,” Nathaniel whispers in my ear, making me jump. “Why fight it?”

“No,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “I am nothing to do with you.”

The pain in my chest reaches a climax. I feel like I’m being ripped apart from the inside out, as if my blood cells are being torn apart one by painful one. A scream tears from my throat, raw and primal, as I drop to my knees. Tears of blood pour down my face, settling on my lips. I can’t resist the urge to dart my tongue out to taste it.

It’s bitter and acrid with a horrible rotten taste to it that makes me gag.

Suddenly, there’s a deafening crack. The air in the Vault ripples like a stone thrown into a pond. I feel something snap inside me, like a rubber band stretched past its breaking point.

The pain vanishes so abruptly that I fall forward, my forehead hitting the cold stone floor as I pant heavily. Morgan stops chanting, and after a beat, she says, “It’s done. The bond is broken.”

I look down at my hands, half expecting to see some visible change. But I look the same as ever.

“How do you feel?” Flint asks tentatively.

“Empty,” I groan and then regret that choice of word. “But in a good way.”

“You will feel the effects of this for some time,” Blackthorn says softly, coming over to me to help me up. I notice my guys are keeping their distance. “But you are strong enough to survive this.”

I nod and look up into his eyes. He is as steady as ever, and I’m grateful to him for being his composed self when I know my guys need a minute. “Thank you, Sir.”

He nods and lets me go as Morgan comes closer. She brushes the wayward purple strands of hair out of my face with a smile. “You are incredible, little flower.”

I return her smile, still on edge but feeling a weight lift from my soul. “Just doing my?—”