Shadows Entwined (Shadows Descent #3)

6. Flint

6

FLINT

“No!” I roar as I see a blur of movement so fast, it hurts my eyes. Lunging forward as if in slow motion, I don’t reach Violet in time before Nathaniel slams a stake through her back, straight into her heart.

“You little bitch!” he snarls as Blackthorn reaches him first and tackles him to the ground.

Then, all chaos reigns down.

My world narrows to a single point as I watch Violet crumple to the ground, her eyes wide with shock and pain. Time seems to slow as I rush towards her, my heart pounding in my ears.

“Violet!” I scream, dropping to my knees beside her. Blood pools beneath her, staining the ritual circle crimson. Her skin is already turning ashen, her lips blue as her power is sucked out of her by her ex-sire.

Caine and Thorne are on Nathaniel with Blackthorn, trying to get him to stop draining Violet of her magick, but they can’t touch him. Only she can. We’ve known this all along, and we waited too long, thinking we had more time.

I gather her into my arms, cradling her head. “No, no, no,” I sob, pressing my hand against the wound in her chest. “Stay with me, Violet. Please, stay with me.”

Her eyes find mine, filled with pain and fear. She tries to speak, but only a wet, choking sound emerges. Blood trickles from the corner of her mouth.

“Do something!” I roar, looking up at Morgan, who has dropped to her knees next to us.

Her hands glow with power as she presses them to Violet’s chest. “Hold on, little flower,” she murmurs, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Behind us, I can hear the sounds of a fierce struggle. Snarls and shouts echo off the stone walls as the others grapple with Nathaniel. But I can’t tear my eyes away from Violet’s face.

“Stay with me, love,” I plead, stroking her hair. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

Her eyelids flutter, and her gaze is unfocused. I can feel her slipping away, her body growing colder by the second, and the tips of her vibrant hair crumbling to ash.

“No!” I cry out, desperation clawing at my chest. “Violet, please!”

Morgan’s hands shine with power, pouring healing magick into Violet’s wound. But it’s not enough. The stake, driven through her heart, is draining her life force faster than Morgan can replenish it.

“We need to remove the stake,” Morgan says urgently. “It’s tethering her to Nathaniel, allowing him to drain her power.”

I nod, steeling myself. “On three. One... two...”

Before I can say “three”, a deafening roar shakes the chamber. I look up to see Nathaniel, his eyes blazing with unholy fire, throw off Caine, Thorne, and Blackthorn as if they were rag dolls.

“That power is mine!” he snarls, lunging towards us.

Time slows again.

Nathaniel’s clawed hand reaches for Violet. The others scramble to their feet, too far away to intervene. I see Morgan, her face a mask of determination, gathering her power for one last desperate spell.

The air around us turns black with a fog so dense, I choke on it. The stench of an ancient black magick swirls around us, and I look up in horror to see that Morgan has changed appearance. She is... frightening.

“Fuck!” Thorne yells and skids to a stop on his knees next to us as Caine whacks Nathaniel over the head with his cane, slowing him down long enough for whatever the hell this is. “No. Morgan! Don’t.”

“It’s the only way,” she croaks, her voice sounding ancient and hoarse.

“She wouldn’t want you to do this,” Thorne says desperately.

“I’m not leaving my only daughter to die, young Fae. One day you will understand the power of a parent’s love.”

“What? What is she doing?” I yell at Thorne, who has gone as pale as a ghost.

Morgan ages rapidly in front of our eyes, and when she places her hands on Violet’s chest, I see what she is doing. “Shit,” I mutter. “Morgan.”

She doesn’t reply. She just funnels her life force into Violet, giving up her life for that of her daughter. She rips the stake out, and Violet gasps, her eyes flying open as she draws in a ragged breath. The colour rushes back to her cheeks, her hair regaining its vibrant purple hue. But as Violet’s life force surges, Morgan’s fades.

“Mum?” Violet whispers desperately, her voice weak but alive. Her eyes widen in horror as she takes in Morgan’s rapidly ageing form. “Stop. What are you doing?”

Morgan smiles, her face now wrinkled and ancient. “What any mother would do, my little flower. I’m giving you a chance to live.”

“No!” Violet cries, struggling to sit up. “Stop, please!”

But it’s too late. With a final, tender smile, Morgan collapses, her body crumbling to dust before our eyes.