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The world vanished beneath the weight of my heart breaking inside my chest. Thighs spread, glistening skin glowing with her lust. Her breathless moans filling my mind as the god who stole her gripped her hip and rolled into her from behind⁠—

Pain tore through my side.

I looked down. A Mortal blade was buried beneath my ribs, yet the pain was nothing compared to the ache of my heart.

The soldier holding the sword stared at me, his hands locked around the hilt. His mouth slackened with surprise. A feeling that I shared.

The wound should not exist. I was immune to the sharp sting of a sword unless it were imbued. This weapon held no thrum of magic. Only another monster could harm me, yet blue blood slid warm over my skin drawn by the hands of a Mortal.

The curse pulsed beneath my flesh as pain flooded my senses, and a cold understanding settled through me.

I was not healing.

I gritted my teeth and pushed towards the soldier, the blade only sinking deeper into the flesh of my abdomen.

His freckled face blanched, wide brown eyes flashing with fear as he stuttered an ancient prayer to gods who no longer listened.

My hand clamped around his throat, shadows pouring out of me. They slithered over his skin, pouring into his open mouth. He choked and spluttered, eyes bulging with panic.

I growled, the darkness threatening to take yet another piece of what little soul I had left as they decayed the Mortal from the inside out.

His veins blackened first, spreading in violent lines up his arms and across his throat.

His body bowed, trembling as my shadows hollowed him from the inside.

My fist closed in on itself, his flesh cracking and sinking in on itself before it burst apart into ash.

The wind took what was left of him, scattering over the snow.

Silence crashed over the clearing.

The remaining Iron Guard faltered, weapons trembling in their hands.

I staggered back, one hand closing around the sword still lodged in my side. The blade grated against bone.

Pain flashed white behind my eyes, dragging the image of Lyra and Helion with it until I could not tell which wound had cut deeper.

Surely it was a lie. Some twisted trickery meant to break me.

I clenched my teeth against the sound that tried to tear out of me as the darkness burrowed beneath my skin, cold and starving, threading through muscle, blood, bone.

I could feel myself slipping.

My knees nearly buckled as I shoved my sword back into its sheath and snatched the jar of sand from the ground.

My teeth ground together as I reached for the shadows, already knowing the price they would take.

They answered like starving things.

Pain ripped through me the moment I stepped into them, vicious enough to steal the air from my lungs.

The world vanished. My body broke apart beneath their cold tendrils, flesh and bone unmaking until there was nothing left of me but darkness.

The deck of the boat slammed into my back, the wound on my side pulsating from the sword still lodged inside of me.

I had forgotten what it felt like to be vulnerable. To be wounded by something as simple as a piece of steel was fucking humiliating.

The bond flared again.