The Myths of Ophelia (The Curse of Ophelia #4)

Chapter 75

Chapter Seventy-Five

Ophelia

The thud of Ritalia’s body hitting the floor of the cavern echoed. Not soft, like Lyria’s slow melting to her knees, like Tolek’s cracking facade as he realized what happened and caught her. Not that heartrending but natural return to the Spirit Realm of a warrior who didn’t deserve to die but did so peacefully.

The queen of the fae fell with a finality that seemed to blur sound and motion.

And a heartbeat later, the remaining fae began to scream. Everything rushed back, like time catching up. They clutched their chests, their heads. Some fell to their knees and writhed. As if in their queen’s death, something inside of them had severed.

The bargains , I realized. Every one she held was snapping.

“Tol!” I gasped, all care of the emblems fleeing my mind as I raced to him and pulled him around to the front of the statue where we could have some privacy in the crescent of the Angels.

He stood panting, chest heaving and eyes in the direction the queen had fallen. Gently, I cupped his cheeks, turning his face to me to catch his wild, haunted stare.

“Tolek,” I murmured softly.

“Ophelia,” he said back, but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t Tolek’s warm, charismatic tone saying my name. Not the adoration layered with teasing.

It was dark and twisted, twin to the vacant stare in his dulled chocolate eyes.

“Ophelia,” he repeated. And as his arms looped around my waist and his head fell to my shoulder, there was something in his tone I recognized, warped as it was: pure desperation. That feeling of being so untethered by a loss that you were grasping for something—anything—to tie yourself down.

I’d never heard it quite like this from him, with a fresh-blooming grief filling in the silence between his breaths, but he clung to me like roots gripping the soil. Like something needed to sustain life.

“I’m so sorry, Tol,” I murmured, holding him tighter to remind him I was here for him. Lyria’s loss was heavy—she wasn’t only Tolek’s sister, but my friend. An advisor, a comforting spirit among us. Someone who made rooms warmer and days brighter.

And now, she was gone. My heart split for her.

“I had to do it.” He inhaled raggedly, tears staining my skin, etching paths through the dirt and sweat. “She had to die.”

“I know,” I assured him, my own voice cracking. “I know.” I would have done the same thing if it had been Jezebel. Would kill anyone who hurt her. I’d have done it for Lyria, too.

Guilt wedged itself between my ribs. A thick reminder that it had been me Lyria was guarding. Another life lost to save mine. It was a pain so sharp and distinct, it carved a spot beside everything else that had been taken from us. My father, countless friends.

But I wouldn’t indulge it now. That would come later, after we got out of here and could fully process the cost.

Now, though, Tolek needed me.

I bunched one hand in his leathers, the other stroking his hair, and I held him. The boy who had radiated hope our entire lives, my guiding light on all those dark nights. He’d had many of his own, but this one…this one dug its claws in the deepest.

I held him through it.

I couldn’t even focus on what was happening around us. Didn’t know if anyone was still fighting. All I cared about was Tol, our hearts beating in sync and breathing ragged.

Turning his face into my neck, Tolek curved his arms tighter around my back, and he whispered, “I want you to finish this.”

I pulled back, cupping his cheeks and guiding his face up to look into his eyes. “What?”

“The emblems.” He inhaled. “I want you to finish what we started. Lyria—she wanted you to do this.”

Finish this , she had said. Right after ensuring I’d care for her brother. And dammit, I’d honor Lyria’s spirit any way I could.

As soon as she’d stopped breathing, Tolek had turned to me and commanded, Go .

It had felt wrong to move from his side, but there was such a finality to his tone, I couldn’t argue with him. Like that was the one thing that would have comforted him. And now, it was that demand that burned through his agonized stare. The heated despair that required us to finish what his sister stood for. To win a sense of freedom for the warriors she’d tirelessly protected.

And if Tolek wanted to scorch this world to ash, I’d burn beside him with the light of the Angels.

“Okay, Tol.” I inhaled, and it was rough.

Pushing onto my toes, I pressed my mouth to his. I love you , I said with the gentle kiss, sealing my grief with his. I took the burden of all the heartache he was going to feel in the coming days and wove our souls into one because Tolek and I could survive anything the Angels threw at us so long as we were together.

Take care of him , Lyria requested. I fucking would. I’d give every drop of cursed blood in my body for Tolek Vincienzo.

Pulling back, I whispered, “For Lyria.”

Three more emblems. That was all remaining between us and fulfilling the Angelcurse.

Tolek’s fingers wove through mine as we approached the statue, and I couldn’t tell who was leading the other. Was it me, escorting him through his grief, or him, guiding this path with a hot vengeance?

Perhaps it was the two of us, equals.

“Thorn, Ptholenix, and Damien,” I said, talking simply to fill the silence Lyria left behind.

“Damien last.” Tolek’s tone was too focused for what he’d endured—for how he’d been wrecked and sobbing—like he’d shoved away all emotion in light of fulfilling his sister’s wish.

My gut squirmed at the cold sound and the knowledge that he’d have to feel all the grief after this, but I held tighter to him. I couldn’t help him until we got out of here, so I forced myself to focus, as well.

“Malakai said Ptholenix’s gilded petal came from a tattoo on his back. Between his wings.”

Tolek tugged me around the statue, to the side that faced the larger cavern?—

“Spirits,” I gasped. A figure lay bleeding from a brutal slice to the gut at the foot of the platform.

“Good,” Tol said, voice icy.

Brystin’s unseeing eyes watched the chasm of a ceiling. Dead.

The only fae still alive were Lancaster and Mora, both slumped on the seats of the theater. Rina and Celissia were questioning them while Barrett and Dax dealt with Nassik, all of my friends sporting minor injuries. Jezebel scampered down the stairs toward us while Malakai passed her to get to Mila. Cypherion and Vale had joined Erista near Lyria’s body, and Sapphire still hovered above us all.

I wished I could feel relieved by seeing everyone else alive, but my pulse pounded. We weren’t done.

“There,” Tolek said, pointing up with our locked hands and pulling my attention back to the statue.

Between Ptholenix’s wings, a faint outline of a tattoo was visible, looking like nothing more than a crack in the stone. It was an orchid missing a singular petal, an indent in the stone marking it.

“How did we skim over all these details?” I asked, stretching up to return the emblem to its rightful home. Still not releasing Tol’s hand, I braced for the tremor that would rack the earth as it clicked into place.

This one cracked, like the igniting of a flame. A wave of heat blistered through the chamber, licking across my scratches and bruises with a soothing kiss of fire. And like when we’d returned the others to their statues, power mounted within me. Everyone else stilled and looked our way.

No one told us to stop, though. There was an aura of retribution among us all now, a thread that tied us together after one of our own had fallen.

“We didn’t know what to look for before,” Tolek deadpanned as the shaking ceased.

Power thrummed through my veins, the fiery strand of Ptholenix’s Angellight nearly incinerating the others at the surge. I gasped, and the light I’d sent swirling above the cavern flared orange and red, a flame being fed.

“You felt it?” Barrett called.

Warmth poured over my body as I turned to the prince. “Did you?”

But Barrett shook his head. “Not this one. But earlier, when you returned Bant’s ring, I’m guessing.” He exchanged a look with Dax and Celissia, the former hunched on a step and gripping his gut. “The power we felt was...it was stronger than anything we’d ever experienced.”

Barrett’s eyes glowed, hungry for power after being betrayed by his councilman.

“It’s how we held the line for the others to get on the sphinx,” Dax added, voice tight.

That surge of power from the Angel statue had saved us. How could this be the wrong choice then?

“I felt it with Valyrie’s,” Vale agreed. As she spoke, starlight seemed to glow from her. Her eyes swirled with silver mists, the contents of galaxies in her stare. Cyph stood attentively at her side, but fervently, Vale said, “Keep going, Ophelia.”

Two more. Only two more emblems.

“Thorn,” Tolek said next.

We circled back to the other side of the statue, and this time, our friends followed, filing onto the platform.

All but Malakai, who sat with an unconscious Mila and the khrysaor near the top of the seats. There was a gap in our ranks where Lyria should have leaned easily against the wall with a curious smirk, and that absence spurred me on.

I pulled both halves of Thorn’s broken crown from my pouch. One I’d retrieved from the pit, the other Kakias had found and manipulated for control over the Mindshapers. It was the second half that pulsed with a power unlike my Angellight or the rest of the emblems, as if when the queen had worn it and mingled that magic with the power of Bant’s spirit within her, something had snapped.

I fiddled with the two pieces, but Tolek squeezed my hand. The weight of the others’ eyes bore into me. Lyria’s voice wafted through my memory. Take care of him. Finish this .

Facing the headless statue before me, I took a step forward.

And I hung both halves of the Angel’s broken crown upon the spot where his head would have been.

The earth didn’t just quake this time.

A keening wail split the air, wind howling through every tunnel in the mountains. I clasped my ears against the piercing sound echoing deep within my own bones. It could have been my own voice screaming for how the shriek cleaved through me. Could have come straight from the heart of the pit in Mindshaper Territory and ripped through Gallantia.

Where the other reactions had fueled the threads of each Angel within me, Thorn’s tore at it. Like he wanted to claim that power back.

It was a reckless and wily sensation, but I gritted my teeth against the pain wrenching through my body and spirit, forcing Thorn’s power down into the deep hollows my Angellight flooded.

The Mindshaper’s power dug through all that I was, violating and cruel, but I could do nothing against it. My back arched, a cry slipping from my throat. My friends shifted around me, but no one else crumbled beneath the Angel’s clawing power.

I leaned into Tol. Was this how he suffered when captured by Aird? Was this his nightmare?

Thorn’s magic dug and dug, and as the assault wrenched through me, Tolek removed his hand from mine, bracing my back and cupping my cheek with the other. He tilted my face up to his and looked at me with a little of the concerned warmth and fury at the Angels I was used to seeing in his stare.

“One more, apeagna ,” he encouraged, stroking my cheek.

“One more,” I repeated, through gritted teeth.

Then, his hands slipped behind my neck. He unclasped my necklace and held the Mystique emblem out to me.

Sweat dripped along my brow as that final shard of Angelborn swung, glinting in the light. Greedily, I wanted to keep it. To find a way to extricate the power within and return that to the stone rather than give over this small piece of metal.

But the time for selfishness was past.

Swallowing that heartache and forcing the pain from the Mindshaper deep within me, I stepped toward the final of the seven figures. My heartbeat pounded through my entire body, hands shaking. In that carved stone, I searched for any hint of the Prime Warrior I’d come to know. Of Damien’s lingering magic or dulcet tones. Of the wistfulness I’d seen in him once, or the scar I knew now marred the Angel’s cheek.

Nothing familiar looked back at me, but it beat in my hand.

For the final time, I reached for Damien’s hunched form, bowing the lowest of them all, and I clasped my necklace around his neck, the fit tight to the stone. And the shock that went through the rock, the magic surging among all of us, was as strong as a thousand lightning strikes.

It was pure, undiluted ether drenching the blood of every Mystique in that chamber. Of Tolek, Cypherion, Jezebel, and Malakai. Even Mila seemed to stir.

It burned along my muscles, through my senses, amplifying everything I knew as a warrior and all the might I’d garnered from the emblems. My pulses pounded, heart racing. The Bond at the back of my neck tugged and drowned out Thorn’s painful exploration of my spirit.

And for a moment, we all silently exchanged awed glances.

“Now what?” Santorina finally asked, looking around at all of the warriors thrumming with power. There was a shift in her, too, but I wasn’t sure exactly what.

“Blood,” Cypherion answered.

In response, given that Tolek and I were both now weaponless, Rina pulled her dagger from her thigh. Twin to the one he had launched at the queen—the final in the set Cypherion had gifted me. Tol accepted it from her.

I held my hand between us, and for the second time in our lives, Tolek angled a blade at my flesh. This was so different than last time—when he’d been fulfilling his own worst fear.

We’d lived through another nightmare in this cavern. One that would echo for days, years. A slice to my palm to unleash a prophecy-fulfilling magic was trivial.

Only flinching slightly, Tolek dug a shallow cut. It stung, the blood welling, and one by one, I pressed the wound to each emblem in the order we’d returned them to the stone.

My heart pounded in my ears with every drop.

Paint the shards with vengeance , Damien had said to me so many months ago, following the Battle of Damenal. Awaken the answering presence .

He wanted me to learn the power waiting within me, had told me to master it but not allow it to be stronger than my own will. For this—to use it to absolve the curse.

With a breath and a desperate wish that we were doing the right thing for the warriors, I smeared my blood across the shard of Angelborn glinting against the worn stone.

“Blood,” I said, gathering a surge of Angellight in my palm, “and magic.”

Then, I blasted each emblem with a hit of golden light.

And the statues that had stood for centuries, buried in the heart of the Mystique Mountains, cracked.

Blurs of gold streaked into the air, formless masses with spots of misty lilac and stormy silver. Ocean blues and the burning of a firebird’s great wings. The strands of magic wrapping through me tugged toward their sources.

Toward the essences of the Angels that had been locked away.

Toward their spirits , now taking shape of limbs and wings and bodies, as Bant’s had in the cell of a mountain camp all those months ago.

With one final burst of almighty light that sent us all stumbling back, those spirits became solid, ethereal bodies of the Seven Angels of the Gallantian Warriors. The Primes who founded our clans, who graced us with their magic.

I could barely make out their forms through the blinding white rays, but the seven strands of Angellight within me sang like strings of a harp being plucked.

At each added note of that melody, my body burned hotter.

Hotter.

Hotter .

I cried out, the light from the Angels intensifying.

Every muscle, every damn fiber of my being, throbbed with a pain worse than anything I’d ever felt. It blazed more intensely than the fire of the Spirit Volcano, twisted my being worse than any loss I’d suffered.

Magic whirled before me and through my bones. In flashes, I was detached from this place, instead on the bridge between the realms where constellations fell from the sky and winged beings soared. Or in the dream world where I’d last seen Damien. But with another blink, I stood back in the cavern.

To ground myself, I separated the light of each Angel in this form, tracking each string they called to.

There was Ptholenix’s burning fire, and Valyrie’s counter of cool starlight. Gaveny, a swirl of teal tinting the gold, as wild as a roaring sea, and Xenique, whose dark depths sang with the Godsblood she’d gifted my mother’s family. Damien and Bant—those two burned brightest of all, twin whips of light lashing within me. Each a string on that delicate instrument of power.

But it was Thorn’s—Thorn’s swirling mass of clouded silver that I’d seen in the pit, fractured as the crown that bore his name, that didn’t only play a string of my magic, but tore it.

He reached within me as he’d been trying to before and ripped the threads of my magic at the seams.

And with another echo of that keening wail, Thorn unlatched a final lock within me. He mangled, severed, and frayed some bolt that had been tampering the wild, myth-born magic and had my muscles igniting even worse than before.

It shredded skin and bone.

Unleashed something I hadn’t realized was deep within me.

“Alabath,” Tolek murmured.

But my only answer was an agonized scream as fire ripped down my spine, like my flesh was being flayed from my bones.

I wanted it to take me. To kill me. Because out of all the things I’d survived, this was the worst.

An aching weight settled along my shoulder blades.

“ Apeagna ,” Tolek said, more urgently this time.

But I couldn’t answer. All I could do was wish to succumb.