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A ripple of cloth is the only sound Valen’s sister makes as she drops from the rafters. Dimitar roars, back arching when a dagger buries deep into his back. His muscles and bones ripple, and my legs snap around him to throw him from the couch, using the momentum to roll over the edge and stumble to my feet.
But my savior doesn’t need my help. Her magic rips through the other magicians mercilessly, killing them instantly and efficiently with minimal flair. Dimitar tries to get up and falls over and over, his body distorting and bulging oddly in a way I’ve never seen before.
I turn to the woman that could be Valen’s twin. “Em… ily?”
“Emilia,” she corrects, pulling out a key. She quickly releases the gauntlets, and I flex my hands when the iron thuds to the ground. My shoulders and neck crack as I roll them, easing some of the aches and pains from being trapped so long. I touch my neck. Fucker made me bleed. I use my shirt’s collar to put pressure on the punctures and nod towards where Dimitar writhes on the ground, trapped in mid-transformation. “What did your knife do to him?”
She arches a brow. “Please. No blade can do that. It was all me.” I blink at her, and she sighs so haughtily that I really believe she’s Valen’s sister. “I negate Transformation. He’s stuck in that mid-transformation pain until I either release him or force him back to his human form.”
My brows shoot up, and I scan Dimitar’s oddly contorted body. “Damn, where were you weeks ago?”
“Stalking your shop, why?”
My head whips towards her. “What?”
“Hm? We don’t have much time. Alasdair has taken my brother with him to the old temple for the Ascension. I don’t know what he plans, but it can’t be good. So, tell me—” she points to Dimitar “—do we kill him or restrain him? The gauntlets will keep him from transforming, so I care very little either way.”
A thousand questions rise, but I can ask them later. I turn my back to Emilia and stalk over to the Amur. I kick him onto his back and pin him there with my boot, letting the pressure sink the blade to the hilt into his ribs. His breath rattles, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
This man was my mentor. He sheltered me during the worst times of my life. For several years, he was my lifeline when I was too young and trusting to know any better. Then he took my pain and suffering and twisted them for his own selfish desire. He used me. Manipulated me. Tried to force me to bend to his cruel will.
He has allied with Alasdair, stole my sweet Torment from me, and handed over Valen to a demon, all so he could be the one in power.
I search for what to say to this monster of a man. What speech to declare all that he’s done. But I have nothing to say to him except for a question. Everything else is meaningless noise that would prolong this just end.
“My grandma and mom.” I swallow, their faces returning to me to shred my heart to pieces, and my voice rasps, “Was that you?”
He grins, his teeth stained red and eyes glinting with malicious glee. “You’ll never know.”
My rings flare to life. “A painful end it is, then.”
My threads explode towards him, wrapping around that fucked-up token fused to his chest. My fist curls, and Dimitar writhes. My threads squeeze, the metal of his token cracking. All the neurons in his brain sizzle in agony as the stolen Soul Thread within turns against him. I twist, the token’s barbed points that grip Dimitar’s ribs slicing through the bone. Then with a rip, the token and Dimitar’s pulsing heart tear free from his chest. The heart squelches when it hits the ground, the weight of the token crushing it.
I lift my boot from his chest, stepping back. I don’t use my hands to pick up the heart and token. I have no desire to get more of his filth on me. My threads tighten around both and toss them into the fire. “Let’s go.”
Emilia greets me with a small smirk. “Oh, I can see why he’d risk it all to fuck you.”
I startle. “What?”
“Hm?” she says innocently, batting her thick lashes at me. “Shall we go save my brother and Tori?”
I blink after her as she strolls to the locked door before following close behind.
CHAPTER 27
THE CORE, TAPESTRY OF MAGIC, THE WEAVE
ASTORIA
A vibration trembles the Tapestry, the threads below me shaking with a terrifying crack. The Archweaver line wrapped around my wrist tugs and tightens. I stumble, quickly shaking my hand free, but not letting the Soul Thread fall.
The Archweaver line that wraps around the cocoon prison glows, tendrils of power dancing along it. The rope-like line twists, shifting the cocoon, and I fall back on my ass when the taut, thin threads beneath me draw ever tighter, dragging me towards the cocoon as it rotates.
My eyes flare, and I scramble backwards so I don’t get sucked into the core as well. I turn to inspect the space I slipped through. The threads are too tight, nearly creaking with the strain from the twisting.
This is why the Tapestry is like a tightly woven fabric. It was never supposed to be one growing, straight thing, but a sphere with multiple different layers, like I saw in Antonia’s vision.
One of the spidery creatures slips through the Tapestry, and it doesn’t try to save itself at all. It falls to crash onto the core, bouncing along it weakly before careening away to disappear into the pit below.
