Fairydale: A Dark Gothic Fantasy Romance

The following day, I wait until nightfall when everyone is asleep before I attempt to go down to the catacombs. I’d spent the entire day preparing some nice food for him since I doubt he’s had anything stellar in a long time—dead rats notwithstanding.

I wince as I think of him eating those to please me. My sweet beast.

As I come to Amon’s quarters, I find him already waiting for me.

He’s shirtless, only wearing a pair of loose pants that hang low on his hips, all his muscular splendor in the open for me to admire.

His hair is wet and droplets of water cling to his skin.

The moment he sees me, he pulls me to him for a deep kiss that makes me dazed.

‘You took a shower,’ I whisper. ‘Where?’

He points to a corner at the end of the room, separated by a divider. That’s when I realize that he’s installed an entire bathroom down here.

‘I have to say, your tastes in interior design are not bad.’

He chuckles.

‘I had to make do. Since I spend all my time down here, I figured I would make it as comfortable as I could.’

‘Let’s eat,’ I say as I take his hand, leading him to the table.

Placing the basket I’d brought with me on it, I start unpacking it, removing some food, water, and wine.

Since I knew I would be seeing him again, I wanted to prepare something special for him  so I made him a few dishes.

‘You cooked?’ he inquires softly as he pokes his head in my basket, his eyes filled with excitement as he examines everything I brought.

‘Of course. From now on, I’ll bring you food every day.’

He licks his lips as he gazes longingly at the stew I made.

‘Did I tell you how much I love you?’ he murmurs, though he isn’t looking at me.

I release a soft giggle as I place a plate in front of him, filling it with a little of everything.

And as he digs in, I can’t help the way my heart warms as I see him eat with so much gusto.

‘I haven’t had food cooked by you in so long,’ he moans softly. ‘I almost forgot it’s an experience in itself.’

Taking a seat opposite him, I rest my elbows on the table as I watch him, that sight being an experience in itself.

Maybe yesterday I was a little too lost in his presence that I didn’t get to appreciate him fully, but as I stare at him, I can’t believe this man is mine.

He is so handsome and kind, and despite having a slightly chaotic bent that might be construed as evil by some, he is just my big, bad protector—the man who always put me above everything, including his own welfare.

For that alone he has my ultimate loyalty too, because he deserves nothing less than someone who would also put him first. Someone who would never doubt him, even when the worst evidence is presented.

And that is what I’ve realized about myself since I’ve arrived in Fairydale.

I might have had a slight lapse in judgment when Rhiannon had showed me that false memory, but from the beginning I’d known that he was never capable of something like that.

Even his evil deeds—as others perceive them—are nothing more than his reaction to the world that seeks to harm him, or me.

My Amon will never intentionally hurt someone unless they ask for it. It is true that when it happens, he is capable of mass destruction. But I would never begrudge him that.

Never.

I know he’s worried I’ll see him differently if I see him in his destructive mode. But how could I, when I know his core?

‘What are you thinking about?’ he asks, raising his gaze to meet mine.

‘Can’t you read my mind?’ I challenge.

He shakes his head, his lips tipped up.

‘I want to hear it from your lips.’

‘I was thinking that you might very well have the ability to destroy the entire world,’ I whisper, gauging his reaction to it.

He grunts, his lips flattening.

‘I might. If something were to happen to you again…’ he trails off. ‘I don’t know how I would react, Darcy. It would be easy to tell you I would never do it again. But after what happened in o-five, I fear I don’t even know myself anymore. I’ve never felt despair like that before and I struck out—violently.’

I reach across the table to place my hand over his, squeezing his fingers gently.

‘I know,’ I whisper.

‘People can think the worst of me. They may think I’m Satan personified, the epitome of evil or destroyer of worlds, but as long as you love me and see me, I don’t care.’

‘I don’t care either,’ I give him a sad smile. ‘All my life, for one reason or another, I tried to live up to people’s expectations. Be proper because it was expected of me and my position, and be good because of my upbringing. If not, people would immediately associate the stigma of being an orphan, with me being bad. So I tried to beat it. I pushed down all other wants and desires and I pursued what I was supposed to,’ I take a deep breath, remembering all those moments in the dark when I would yearn for more—when I would see myself as being more.

With time, I’d managed to stifle those feelings until only a light restlessness remained. One that could be ignored as I went about my life—ignorant and complacent about everything else that happened around me.

‘But I’m done being that person. I’m done letting others dictate how I should feel or behave, or who I should love. So I don’t care about what outsiders think of you—of us. I only care about our relationship and the fact that you are so good to me unlike anyone’s ever been.’

‘My darling girl,’ he smiles. ‘I’m proud of you.’

‘Thank you. I’m rather proud of myself,’ I add bashfully. ‘It’s not easy to beat those voices inside my head that hold me down, but slowly, I find that I’m able to do it. Remembering my life as Elizabeth has helped me enormously. Because even then…’ my lips tremble as they pull into a smile. ‘I went against everyone for you. Just like I would now.’

‘You’ve done it before,’ he comments before he can help himself.

My eyes widen and I realize he’s talking about Sela.

‘I never asked you. How do you feel calling me by different names? Isn’t it…odd?’

He shakes his head.

‘For me you’re still you, and any name of yours I would infuse with just as much love,’ he answers matter-of-factly.

‘You’re such a charmer.’

‘It’s the truth,’ he shrugs.

‘There is this famous psychoanalyst Carl Jung and in his view, the persona is made up of experiences and social and cultural context. In that instance, without any experience of the past, wouldn’t you say I am an entirely different person? Doesn’t memory create a person?’

He thinks on it for a moment.

‘You’re right to an extent. Yes, memory does constitute the basis of a person, and their experiences shape who they are. But I also believe in intention and reaction. In that integral part of your essence that would react the same to a situation regardless of whether you were Sela, Elizabeth or Darcy.’

I nod slowly, thinking back to myself and Elizabeth and agreeing with his assessment. Though the time had been different, I hadn’t felt any less myself, regardless of the different upbringing and socio-economic status.

‘But you also said social context,’ he smiles. ‘And in this case I am your social context. You might find it a bold claim, but you are you because of me, just as I am me because of you. We’re so tightly interlinked, Darcy, that sometimes we’re not two individuals—just one. It’s been like this from the very beginning. From the first moment we met, made even more so by our mating. It doesn’t matter what world we’re in, or how far we are from each other. We are relative to one another.’

I pick up a piece of bread, chewing slowly on it.

‘Do you remember what I told you the first time we met in seventeen-ninety?’

‘What?’

‘My madness recognizes yours; just like my essence recognizes yours. As individuals, we’re semi-whole. Only together do we feel finally fulfilled. I know you’ve felt it before.’

Biting my lip, I give him a sharp nod.

‘Memory or no memory, it’s your presence alone that completes me. Never doubt that.’

‘I know what you mean. I saw you and my entire being wept with an unknown relief. Never have I experienced something like that, Amon.’

Taking my hands into his, he lays a kiss on each knuckle, all the while maintaining eye contact.

‘I don’t want you to ever doubt that I love you for you, not for the name you bear—never that.’

‘You too,’ I whisper as a blush mars my cheeks. ‘You have no idea how confused I was with Caleb because how could I feel the same way about two different people? Maybe I was a little slow, or maybe I didn’t want to admit what was in front of me. But even then, I felt it.’

‘Let’s not mention that name again,’ he grumbles. ‘I think I’m traumatized from hearing you say it too many times.’

‘Amon!’ I giggle. ‘Didn’t you just say it’s the essence that matters, not the name?’

He pouts as he turns away, and he reminds me so much of Mr. Meow I just want to take him in my arms and kiss his white hair—though it might prove more difficult with Amon considering he’s at least twice my size.

‘I’m a jealous man, darling,’ he admits with a weary sigh. ‘You’ll have to get used to this small flaw of mine, but I become quite rabid if anyone dares to sniff around you.’

‘Small flaw, huh?’ I raise a brow in a playful manner.

‘I promise to refrain myself from killing them just for looking,’ he puts a hand up. ‘It’s the most I can do. If they put a finger on you, then all bets are off,’ he smiles, quite pleased with himself.

‘What about me then? Do I get the same courtesy?’

‘What do you mean?’ he frowns.

‘Well, you’re a handsome man. What if a woman touches you? Can I kill her too?’ I ask innocently, curious to see how he’d react.

He stands up abruptly, the chair flying a distance away from him.

‘W-what? Another woman touching me?’ he asks incredulously. ‘Another woman that is not you?’ he repeats, almost as if he cannot believe I would even suggest such a thing.

‘Yes. Can I kill her if she does that?’

‘No. I’ll kill her myself first,’ he declares fervently. ‘Any person who upsets you, whether by intention or implication, regardless of sex, will die by my hand,’ he pushes his chin up, placing his arms over his chest in a confident stance.

I stifle a laugh.

‘So let me get this straight. You’re allowed to get jealous and consequently off people, but I’m not, because you will kill them before I can even get jealous.’

‘That is absolutely right,’ he nods. ‘It’s my job to protect you, and that means your mental state too.’

I stare at him a little flabbergasted, yet I can’t help the way my lips pull up into a smile.

How is he so adorable?

‘Fine, fine. You win,’ I tell him. ‘Now bring the chair back and finish your meal. It’s probably cold already.’

‘Ok,’ he murmurs, grabbing his chair and sitting back at the table as if nothing happened—as if he didn’t just give me an impassioned speech.

And just like that, he’s back to eating, slowly savoring the food while staring at me.

Well, adorable might be an understatement.

We spend moments on end in companionable silence as we eat while our eyes feast on each other. When he’s finished, he helps me put the dirty dishes aside before placing a stack of books on the table.

‘So, what do you want to start with?’ he asks as he opens each of them to the title page.

I look at the books with a mix of horror and apprehension.

‘Are you sure we should do this?’

‘We convened to go to Abel’s house in a few days. That gives us only a little time to prepare. And since you’re technically a Stuart descendant, you can use these spells.’

‘But I’ve never done a spell before,’ I whisper as I look at the tomes before me—all in Latin.

‘Sure you have. You took down the barrier. That was you performing a spell.’

‘But…’

‘I’ll help you,’ he smiles as he takes my hand, giving it a quick squeeze. ‘Lydia explained to me enough to guide you, and she even picked the spells she knew you would need. Besides, I happen to be fluent in Latin.’

‘I’ll have to memorize them, though, no?’ I ask as I bite my lip.

‘Well, yes. But first we need to make sure you do them right.’

‘But Amon,’ I burst out. ‘I was never good at memorization. Even at school, I could never get it right,’ I sigh. ‘I have this thing where if the letters of the words are similar enough, I’ll mess them up. Surely that will be a problem with a spell that needs exact wording. I might even make it worse.’

‘You won’t,’ he shakes his head, giving me a roguish smile. ‘I’m here to ensure you will do just fine. Besides, you only need to learn some defensive spells. I’ll take care of the offensive.’

I pout as I look at him, hoping he would change his mind, but he seems quite staunch in his conviction.

Taking a seat at the table, I drag a deep breath in my lungs.

‘Fine, let’s do this.’

‘We need a specific plan of attack to ensure we are successful. More than anything, we need to make sure we are not found out by Kress and Finn.’

I nod.

‘I guess it will help that Abel’s power is dwindling. But…’

He tilts his head, waiting for me to speak.

‘Will we have to kill him?’ I ask on a whisper.

Why is it that killing him leaves such a bad taste in my mouth? This is the man who killed me and his brother. Yet at the same time, he was still our son. How could I ever justify raising a hand to my child?

‘We must do what we must do, darlin’. There is no other way around this, unfortunately. Abel made his bed when he decided power was more important than his family. I can understand why he would hate me, since I am guilty of killing his parents. But you? Or Abraham? Or Rhiannon and your mother?’ Amon pauses, and in his features I note the same deep pain that stabs at my heart.

Abraham should have never died. The fact that he did, in my own arms… That I felt life go out of him… The sight of that still haunts me. And I doubt it will ever stop.

But Amon is right, the Abel we knew is gone. He’s not only committed the murder of his kin, but he’d raped and perpetuated violence, all in an attempt to get his hands on more power.

‘In his mind, we are both just as guilty. But to go against his own brother… To commit those atrocities…’

‘Power corrupts,’ Amon purses his lips. ‘But it’s not power itself that poisons the brain. It’s the euphoria of chasing after it—of always getting more and more. It’s an addiction, Darcy. And unfortunately, too many people have fallen prey to it.’

‘You mean that Ambrosius, don’t you?’

He nods, his features tight with sadness.

‘We’ve been around for too long not to experience the worst of humanity. Have we seen the best, too? Yes. But more often than not, we’re shown that the bad outweighs the good—at least where it matters.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I frown.

‘I know you don’t,’ he smiles sadly. ‘And I promised myself I wouldn’t say too much. But we’ve seen empires come and go, we’ve seen men in power and what they do with that power. And unfortunately, nine times out of ten, they choose to abuse it.’

‘So you’re saying he cannot be saved,’ I sigh.

‘It’s too late, love. Believe me, it pains me just as much as it does you. But we cannot let that obstruct our view. We need to get you that jewel back. I really hope nothing happened to it while it was in his possession…’ he trails off.

‘Alright,’ I say, imbuing my voice with determination.

I pick up one of the books at random since all of them have Latin titles.

‘This one is all about barriers and shields. I know you can heal, but your power isn’t fully formed. You saw what happens if you overtax yourself.’

I nod.

‘I stop healing if I use up my energy.’

‘That means we need to make sure you get minimally injured—ideally not at all. You might be able to handle superficial wounds. But anything more than that…’ he shakes his head.

‘How is it that my blood works for you, then?’ I suddenly ask.

He smiles.

‘Because it’s not only your ability to heal that gives me strength. It’s the fact that you’re my second half. We’re bound together, Darcy. We complement each other.’

‘Does that mean your blood would help me too?’

‘Theoretically, it would give you some of my energy, but it wouldn’t heal you,’ he grimaces, about to say something else before he shakes his head and continues. ‘You’re the super healer in the family, and when you’re at full strength, you can heal more than just yourself.’

‘I saw in that vision. I was healing a little boy.’

‘At full capacity, your power is boundless, love. It’s why everyone is after it.’

I study him for a moment and the way he regards me with such love—such confidence. Just knowing he trusts me with this makes me want to give my best.

‘Then let’s do this,’ I declare.

I turn the page to the spell he’d marked. He reads it out loud while I follow with my finger, trying to remember the right pronunciation.

‘This one should give you a temporary armor.’

‘How temporary are we talking about?’

His lips flatten in a pitiful smile.

‘One and done. It’s why we need a combination of spells.’

I grumble something under my breath, but eventually I say the words out loud like he’d done.

‘Nothing happened,’ I frown.

‘Well, let’s see,’ he lifts his hand, and under my very gaze, it morphs into a sharp blade.

I’d almost forgotten he was capable of that.

He brings it to me, stabbing—or more, like poking—me with it.

Instead of penetrating my flesh, though, it seems to be stopped by some invisible barrier.

‘Oh, God. It worked,’ I exclaim as my eyes widen in surprise.

‘It did,’ he chuckles. ‘But remember that this one can only be used once every ninety minutes. You might want to save it for hard impacts.’

I nod as I throw my eyes over the words again. They aren’t too hard to memorize—just a couple of lines.

‘Ok, what’s next?’ I meet his gaze, suddenly feeling excitement simmer in my blood.

Maybe this spell business isn’t as hard as I’d thought. Certainly, the reward at getting it right is quite intoxicating.

We go over a few more protective spells, and I recognize one of them as being what Rhiannon had used in her fight with Abel. That one is slightly more complicated, though, and the moment I’m done reciting it, I start feeling lightheaded and we need to put a temporary halt to our practice.

‘Here,’ Amon seats me on the bed and gives me a glass of water.

‘Thank you,’ I murmur.

‘You’re doing great, darlin’. I know this is a lot, but honestly, most of it is for my peace of mind. I need to know you can defend yourself when the time comes.’

‘I understand.’

For the rest of the week, we spend every possible moment together as we practice the spells Lydia had left for me.

Amon proves to be quite the teacher with his unlimited amount of patience and amazing insight. If I hadn’t been completely in love with him already, I would have fallen for him simply for his pristine work ethic and sweet personality.

Though I don’t know much about the past, I remember that he was a general in the army.  And I can clearly see how that reflects in his manners. He speaks with a certain assuredness that makes me want to hang on to his every word and obey every command. But more than anything, I can see his vast experience in how he approaches this one mission.

He’s already made one main plan and countless spare ones as he tried to account for everything that might go wrong.

‘Are you sure you’re ready for this, love?’ he murmurs in my hair as he holds me in his arms the night before we’re set to put our plan in motion.

‘Yes. And we need to succeed. The coven is coming to the manor soon. We need to get this done before they arrive.’

‘You’re right. Depending on how experienced the members are, they might be able to feel the disturbance if we do it with them in Fairydale.’

‘We can do this,’ I whisper, hoping to cheer myself on.

‘Remember that if you happen to forget words from the spells, call my name and I will feed them to you in your mind.’

‘It will all be fine,’ I whisper as I nuzzle into him.

We go to sleep wrapped in each other, and as I’m getting used to sleeping with him, I don’t know how I ever managed to do it by myself in the past.

Amon was right that there’s something about our connection that goes beyond just being a couple. When I’m with him, I feel unusually whole. Every little part of me vibrates with every little part of him, each so thoroughly complementary we’re like two pieces of a puzzle matched to perfection.

He’d implied the reason for this hides in my memories as Sela, and I cannot wait to find out about our past—how everything started.

I can tell that Amon has a hard time not telling me about our past and sometimes he has to censor himself to not give away too much. At the same time, it’s clear that most of our fondest memories are in that past. And that is all the motivation I need to see this to the end.

I need to know who I am—who I was.

The following day, we both wake up and slowly dress while going over our plan once more. When we’re ready to head out, Amon flashes us in front of the church.

‘Are you ok?’ my eyes widen when I see his eyes flash between light blue and a deep red.

He strains a smile.

‘I’ll be fine in a moment. It’s always bad in the beginning. The prison seeks to hold me inside, and though I am here, I can feel tendrils of pure energy that try to drag me back down. It takes a bit of concentration to fight it.’

He takes a seat on a boulder as he takes a deep breath—in and out as he tries to stabilize himself.

‘This is what happened at the cabin, wasn’t it? You were having problems fighting the prison’s hold.’

He gives a brisk nod.

‘I’ll be fine soon. Please don’t worry.’

Once his eyes stop flashing, he gets up and takes off his already blood-stained shirt, discarding it.

My hand flies to my mouth when I see the wounds appearing on his back and torso. Almost like someone had clawed his skin out.

‘Amon,’ I whisper, tears accumulating at the corners of my eyes. I don’t even think as I bring my wrist to his mouth, encouraging him to drink.

He shakes his head.

‘I don’t want to weaken you now,’ he gives me a sad smile as he cleans the best he can of the blood flowing down his skin before taking out a new black shirt.

Seeing him in so much pain shakes me to my core. My actions are entirely instinctive as I bite hard on my tongue—enough to draw blood. Raising myself on the tips of my toes, I cup his cheeks, bringing him in for a kiss. As I open my mouth, I urge him to suck my tongue.

‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ he rasps as he wrenches himself from me. His breathing is ragged as he stares at me, his tongue tracing the remnants of blood on his upper lip.

Maybe it was a few drops, but some of his injuries are already healing.

‘There will be more, Darcy. You can’t heal all of them now. We can worry about this later, ok?’ he watches me closely, waiting for me to agree.

‘Ok,’ I sigh.

Putting on his clean shirt, he makes himself presentable so there is no trace of blood, or of injury. He changes his hair and eye color to black once more, taking the appearance he’d used when he passed himself as Caleb.

When he’s finally done, we start hand in hand towards Abel’s house.

It takes us a few minutes to reach it, and as we give each other a look of encouragement, I knock on the door.

As before, the same elderly lady opens it.

‘Helena, right?’ I give her a small smile. ‘Is Mr. Nicholson home?’

She looks us both up and down before she beams at us.

‘Of course. Why don’t you come into the drawing room while I tell him you’re here. I hope this time you’re staying for lunch.’

‘I’m so sorry about last time. I wasn’t feeling very well. But this time I promise we’ll stay and taste your cooking.’

‘And this is…’ she moves her gaze from me to Amon.

‘Oh, this is my husband.’

‘You’re married,’ she gasps. ‘But I thought you were a Miss.’

I purse my lips as I try to look convincing.

‘Truth to be told, I’ve never revealed this before since my husband and I were not on good terms when I came to Fairydale. But he ended up chasing after me and here we are,’ I sigh. ‘But now that he’s here, I wanted him to meet Mr. Nicholson since he is my only living relation.’

‘Oh, dear! Of course! He will be so pleased to hear about this. Let me get him for you. Come,’ she adds effusively, showing us to the drawing room before going upstairs to call on Abel.

We both take a seat, our hands still linked together.

My heart is beating fast in anticipation and a touch of fear since I do not know how all of this will unfold.

According to the plan Amon had concocted, we are to engage Abel in conversation at first, lull him into a sense of security while dropping enough hints to unsettle him.

‘Darcy, how nice to see you!’ Mr. Nicholson suddenly appears in the doorway, slowly walking inside the room. He’s using his cane for support, and as before, my eyes are drawn to the jewel resting atop it.

‘Mr. Nicholson,’ I greet him. ‘This is my husband, Anthony.’

‘Pleased to meet you, sir,’ Amon extends his hand.

‘Husband?’ He watches him with narrowed eyes. ‘What a surprise,’ he adds drily, and I can tell he doesn’t seem to like the fact that I’m married.

‘Have we met before?’ he suddenly asks as he takes Amon’s hand.

‘Hmm, have we?’ he murmurs softly.

‘I came to speak to you about a most urgent matter,’ I intervene.

Abel grunts, still watching Amon warily, studying him as if he can tell there’s something wrong.

‘What is it?’ He barely wrenches his eyes from Anthony to look at me.

We all take a seat. Amon and I on the couch, while Abel sits on the armchair opposite us, resting his cane against the outside of the chair—just as we’d anticipated.

‘The coven will be here shortly, and they will proceed with the ritual. Two emissaries from the Holy See have already arrived at the Hale manor and they’ve taken over the preparations. The coven members are set to arrive soon to discuss the plan for the spell,’ I take a deep breath. ‘I haven’t been able to dissuade Rhiannon.’

‘I see. I was afraid it would come to this,’ he sighs dramatically.

‘What can we do? I tried to approach Rhiannon with it and she told me the most awful lies about you,’ I start, putting on my best act.

He shakes his head, and I know he’s already anticipated that Rhiannon would tell me everything. And despite her track record with lies, I am quite certain she wasn’t lying about this.

‘Of course she would,’ he agrees. ‘You saw how she treated me just for attempting to talk with you. It’s actually a wonder that you’ve managed to come here today,’ he says as his eyes stray to Amon. There’s a twitch in his cheek as he studies him carefully, almost as if trying to place him somewhere.

‘She is busy with the people from the Holy See.’

‘I am happy you understand that it’s all lies. Rhiannon and I had a fully consensual relationship some fifty years ago. When she became pregnant she decided to lie about the abuse because she didn’t want to be seen as a single mother. The times were very different, you see. Now you might be able to survive the stigma, but back then the entire town shunned her. It was only her name and some decades of hiding that allowed her to show her face again.’

‘I knew there must be some explanation for it,’ I nod emphatically. ‘How could she say that you instructed Leo Pierce to rape my mother to get her pregnant? All because you seemingly knew of some prophecy that stated when and to whom I would be born,’ I give a dry laugh.

‘Right,’ he clenches his teeth. ‘Of course it is not true.’

He brings his gaze to Amon again.

‘How come you’ve brought your husband with you?’

‘You see, we had a huge row just before I left for Fairydale and I swore I’d never see him again,’ I explain, giving him a fake history of myself and Anthony.

He nods along to my story, but it’s clear he has doubts.

‘So you see, we’ve come to ask for help. I don’t know how to proceed, Mr. Nicholson. You’re the only one that can guide me,’ I tell him, proud of myself for not wincing at such a blatant lie and even more suffocating pandering. God, I might have to bleach my mouth after this.

‘But how could I help if they are so set on performing the ritual? I am a mere old man against an entire coven of witches.’

‘Well, you see…’ I bite my lip in uncertainty as I look to my husband then back at Abel. ‘I had a dream.’

‘A dream?’ his interest is suddenly piqued.

I bite my lip as I do my best to appear uncertain.

‘My ancestor, Elizabeth Creed, appeared in my dream.’

He blinks repeatedly, unable to mask his shock.

From what Amon had told me, no one is aware of the fact that I am Elizabeth. Not even Abel who knew Elizabeth. They all put it down to an eerie similarity both in appearance and purpose.

‘You dreamed about Elizabeth Creed?’ he swallows hard.

I nod.

‘It scared me so bad. Good thing my darling Anthony came to find me on time otherwise, I thought I would go crazy.’

‘Why,’ he wets his lips, leaning forward. ‘What happened in that dream?’

‘A frightening thing, Mr. Nicholson. She said the ritual will fail and Amon will be released and he will avenge her death. That he will unleash death over Fairydale again.’

‘Avenge her death?’ he repeats, seemingly only caring about that aspect.

‘Right? Didn’t she die so long ago? How could he avenge her death when her killer must be already dead?’

‘Indeed… Did she say anything else?’

I shake my head.

‘She didn’t mention the identity of her killer?’ he continues to probe.

‘No, she didn’t tell me who it was. But she showed me the entire scene. It happened in the Old Church, did it not?’

His eyes flicker with surprise.

‘What else did she show you?’

‘The killer was a young man, I think. I’ve never seen him before. He demanded her necklace after which he killed someone else at the scene. Another man,’ I bring my fingers to my lips, nibbling on them. ‘While she was grieving for him, he stabbed her. God, I’ve never seen anything more horrific,’ I recount as tears stream down my cheeks.

Abel’s face is white as he struggles to open his mouth to say something.

‘You seem distraught, Darcy,’ he mentions, his lips trembling slightly.

‘I suppose the scene affected me too much. Would you mind telling me where the restroom is so I can refresh myself?’

‘Certainly,’ he gives me a clipped answer, his jaw ground tight.

He directs me to the end of the hallway and I give him a sad smile as I exit the drawing room.

I don’t go to the restroom, though. Instead, I enter the kitchen where I find Helena toiling away at what would be our lunch.

‘Helena,’ I call out. ‘Mr. Nicholson asked me to tell you that he needs something urgently from town. Would you mind going there to buy it?’

‘He did?’ She blinks.

‘Yes,’ I purse my lips. ‘We need a selection of red, white and purple candles, some marine salts…’ I give her an entire list of inane purchases that she needs to get.

She regards me skeptically in the beginning until I assure her it’s for a secret ritual.

Remembering she’d been the one overseeing the secret room on the second floor, I assume she is familiar with Abel’s witchy pastime.

The moment I mention that, she finally relents.

‘He’s trusting you to choose the best items, Helena. Please don’t disappoint us.’

‘Of course not. Mr. Nicholson knows to expect only the best from me,’ she says as she puts a coat and a hat on. Grabbing her purse, she is already out the door.

This way, Helena won’t be harmed in our upcoming altercation.

I tarry a few more moments before I return to the drawing room.

‘Your husband was telling me how you two met. Quite interesting that you did not tell anyone you were married. Mr. Vaughan certainly didn’t find any documents relating to your civil state.’

‘Why would he?’ I raise a brow.

‘Because he looked into your situation, of course. There’s quite a bit of money at play, and anyone could pretend to be Leo’s long lost daughter, isn’t that right?’ he strains a smile.

‘Of course. He had to do his due diligence.’

I resume my seat, and Amon takes my hand, his heat seeping into mine as he lets me know he is there for me. Although I am leading this conversation, he was the one who suggested we take this route—play up on any potential guilt Abel might have.

‘But tell me more about that dream. What else did you see? What did the young man look like? Did you tell Rhiannon about it?’ His barrage of questions takes us by surprise.

Yet one question stands out among the others.

Did you tell Rhiannon?

Why would he care if I told Rhiannon about it?

‘I was going to, but she’s been awfully busy with the guests. Why? Do you think it means anything?’

‘No, of course not. Everyone is aware that Amon killed Elizabeth and their children. It was quite horrible. He raped and killed her. I am certain the man you saw in your dream must have been Amon,’ he nods, almost as if to himself.

‘Really?’ I frown.

How would he know about the erroneous version of the collective memory which shows Amon as the killer?

‘I did not see it as such,’ I counter. ‘No one raped Elizabeth. She was stabbed to death.’

‘I am sure you must be mistaken, Darcy.’

‘But how would you know?’

‘Why, everyone knows. It’s in the coven archives.’

I narrow my eyes at him at the same time as Amon squeezes my hand—sign to not let my emotions get the best of me.

But the question remains—how does he know about the archive version if he is not part of the coven?

‘I am told Amon had long white hair. The man I saw did not. He had short dark hair.’

‘Did he,’ he murmurs in discomfort. ‘I’m sure it was just a bad dream, Darcy. You shouldn’t bother Rhiannon with something like that,’ he tells me quite emphatically.

My God! Could it be that he was the one to interfere with the images from the archive? Otherwise why would he be so scared of anyone finding out my version?

‘But there’s more,’ I mention, barely stifling a smile as I see him fidget in his seat.

‘More?’ he whispers, his eyes widening.

‘Elizabeth called him her son.’

He stares at me, seemingly struck speechless.

‘I think it’s time for you to go, Darcy,’ he suddenly says, jumping to his feet and reaching for his cane. ‘I forgot I have an appointment later in the day and Helena must be…’

I give Amon a look and he nods. The doors to the drawing room immediately close.

‘I’m afraid Helena has left on an errand,’ I tell him.

‘What is happening here?’ he asks in a thundering voice.

‘Odd that you don’t remember me, Abel,’ I smile sweetly. ‘I’m told I look quite the same,’ I say as I push my hair off my face and strike a pose—anything to infuriate the damned man.

‘W-what…’ Abel stammers, his eyes like two saucers.

And just like that, Amon changes his appearance to look back like himself.

‘You… It can’t be,’ he whispers. ‘You should be locked away. Not here. Not…’

‘Not interfering with your plans?’ Amon chuckles. ‘I bet you’d love that.’

A snarl appears on Abel’s face as he fully turns towards us. Energy swirls around him, but as he channels it towards us, I quickly say the words to the spell I’d learned, erecting a shield around us. The blast dispels around, too weak to penetrate our defense.

Abel tries to summon another blast, but this time, he’s unsuccessful in hitting us.

‘I think you might need a power source for that. Something like this?’ Amon asks playfully as he raises the gem.

While Abel had been captivated by my story, Amon had focused his abilities on getting the gem, successfully dislodging it from the cane. We hadn’t known it would be so easy, but since this worked, then the first part of the plan has been successfully completed.

Amon carefully pockets the gem, keeping it safe until we’re able to fashion it into a necklace again, while I regard Abel’s pitiful form.

‘How… I don’t understand… You can’t be Elizabeth…’

‘But it seems I am. How does it feel, Abel? To stare into my eyes once more?’

‘No… ‘ he shakes his head. ‘You can’t do this!’ he yells, bringing his palms together to gather more energy.

Amon rolls his eyes and with a snap of his fingers he has him across the wall, arms and legs apart.

‘You won’t want to see this, Darcy,’ he whispers, but I shake my head.

‘I have to.’

Stepping forward, I stop in front of him.

‘Why did you kill Abraham? I understand that you hated me and Amon, but your brother? Why?’

He gives a maniacal laugh.

‘Because he was convenient,’ he scoffs. ‘He’d always been a pussy, at least he died like a fucking man,’ he spits out.

‘You think you deserve any praise for the way you killed him? For the way you slit his throat from behind like a coward?’

Amon places his arm around me, grounding me even as my emotions threaten to get the best of me.

‘You know nothing, you stupid cow,’ he yells at me. ‘You know fucking nothing!’

‘Don’t,’ I whisper to Amon as I feel him tense. ‘Let me talk to him.’

Turning to Abel, I look him in the eye.

‘Then tell me why you did it. I know you worked with Kress and Finn from the beginning. But why?’

‘Why do you think?’ he snarls. ‘I spent my entire childhood being told I wasn’t good enough on account of my sex only. Abraham was the heir to my father’s fortune and Lydia was the heir to my mother’s coven. Where did that leave me? Nowhere!’

‘But you never wanted money, did you?’

He would have had plenty of opportunity to become a very wealthy man, and by all accounts, he is the richest one in Fairydale. Yet from the beginning he’d stayed here.

He gives a dry laugh.

‘Money,’ he snorts. ‘I have plenty of money.’

Of course he would. After all, Abraham’s money all went to him after he died, did it not? Not even the money he owns is his by right.

‘But you don’t have power. You never did.’

‘It’s all because of that stupid coven and their rules! I can perform spells! I can do everything a woman can!’

‘But you do not have the energy source to do so,’ I fill in the blanks.

He is able to do spells, potentially on account of his blood relation to the Stuart family. But only the female line is blessed with innate abilities.

‘That’s what Kress and Finn offered you,’ Amon, who’d been silent until now, finally speaks. ‘They bought you with the necklace, promising you it would give you everything you ever wanted.’

‘My cooperation in their plan was a small price to pay for immortality, wouldn’t you say?’ he asks sarcastically. ‘Who in their right minds would not jump at that?’

He tries to move as he mutters a few words in Latin under his breath, but Amon is quick to shut him off, clamping his mouth shut.

He struggles, making muffled noises and thrashing as much as he can before Amon restrains him even more, shaking his head at his pitiful efforts.

‘Except that for the last twenty-four years the necklace hasn’t been working too well, has it,’ I add.

He frowns.

‘You didn’t know, did you? The necklace isn’t just a source of power,’ Amon interjects. ‘It’s part of her, and it will always recognize her as the master. It’s why it might have given you some power, but never to its full capacity.’

More muffled sounds, and Amon removes the mouth clamp for a moment.

‘Kress and Finn will fucking end you! You think you’re so high and mighty now, but wait until they get their hands on you, you fucking filthy demon,’ he curses. ‘They will send you back to hell where you belong…’

Amon stops him from talking again.

Turning to him, I give him a confident look.

‘I’ll do it.’

‘Darcy, are you sure? You don’t have to…’

‘I need to. If not, I’ll probably be haunted my entire life by that scene and the way he killed us,’ I shake my head. ‘It’s my duty. For Abraham.’

He looks unconvinced for a moment before he nods.

‘For Abraham,’ he repeats, taking a step back.

Turning my attention to Abel who is throwing daggers at me with his eyes, I bring my fingers together, remembering one other spell I’d learned.

This might not have given me the answers I wanted to hear. He’d made no excuses for his behavior and in his mind, he doesn’t see himself as guilty—he’d simply acted in his best interests.

I look at him and I try to imagine the ten year old he’d been when we first picked him up from London. I remember the youth he’d been before all the corruption—before the fratricide and the abomination he’d become.

Yet no matter how hard I try, everything is tainted by his actions.

I can no longer see him as my son, Abel. Only Archibald Nicholson, an old, pitiful man who’d sold his entire family in his quest for power. A man whose chief qualities have been his greed and treachery.

‘There is nothing more disappointing for a mother than seeing her son turn out the way you did. But you never did consider me your mother, did you? Not even your aunt. You always saw us as the enemy and you let your hate poison your heart until you turned against your own brother,’ I speak, my voice unwavering. ‘I no longer recognize you as any relation of mine, Abel, or Archibald Nicholson. You are nothing and you will perish as nothing but an afterthought in the history books.’

His cheek twitches as he stares malevolently at me. If he’d been able to, I don’t doubt he would have spit in my face and cursed me some more—after all, that’s all he can do being as helpless as he is.

Neither Amon nor I imagined he would rely almost entirely on the jewel for his powers, or that he would remain so thoroughly vulnerable without it.

Alas, my husband is right. He made his bed; he will now rest in it.

Forever.

‘Incendia,‘ I whisper as I channel my attention towards him, watching his entire body catch on fire.

I’d picked the spell randomly while reading through the ones Lydia had marked for me, thinking if the time came, this would be the most appropriate way for Abel to go. He’d blamed Amon for being a hellish creature when he’d been the worst evil all along. It’s only fitting that he should be the one to burn in hell.

Black flames swirling around him and consuming him until nothing is left of his flesh.

My eyes widen as I realize this is the exact way Leo Pierce had died after he’d had an attack.

But…how?

‘Amon…did you kill Leo Pierce?’

He looks pensive for a moment.

‘I tried, but someone else beat me to it. I thought it was Rhiannon.’

‘I don’t think it was,’ I whisper. ‘He died just like this, with the same spell.’

‘You think…’

‘Someone else killed him. Someone who would have known this specific spell.’

Before I can speak further, a loud noise erupts in the house, followed by another.

Like a howling sound, it’s absolutely terrifying in its intensity.

My hands go to my ears just as Amon takes me in his arms, ready to flash us out of the house.

‘No,’ I whisper. ‘The second floor. I’m sure it’s coming from there.’

‘It could be a trap. Who knows what type of creature Abel could have summoned and is now going berserk without a master?’

‘No,’ I shake my head.

I don’t know why I’m so convinced, but I do not believe the source of the noise means us harm.

The sound reverberates again in the house, this time sounding more like a wail than a howl.

‘It’s a signal of distress, Amon, not one of attack,’ I whisper, wrenching myself from his arms as I hurry to the staircase.

Amon is right on my tracks as I chase the source of the sound.

It’s not on the first floor, though. It’s on the second.

‘That’s the room,’ he says as he comes behind me. ‘The one I couldn’t go into.’

‘There’s someone inside,’ I whisper. ‘I’m sure there’s someone inside.’

We walk towards the room, yet as I reach out with my hand, I come across the same barrier Amon had mentioned.

‘Let me try again,’ Amon suggests. He creates a ball of energy in his hands that he launches at the barrier.

Yet just as it reaches it, there’s a light ripple before the blast is thrown back at us.

Amon is quick enough to remove me from its trajectory, but that means the barrier will not budge no matter how much power we throw at it.

The sound continues to come from the room, now more potent than ever.

‘Wait,’ I suddenly say as I grab onto Amon’s arm. ‘What about the spell Lydia left me to disarm your barrier? Would it work?’

His brows furrow together before he gives me a nod. Holding out his hand, he materializes the piece of paper I’d found in the Latin dictionary.

Taking it from his hands, I say the words out loud just as I’d said them before. When I’m done, I give Amon a look as we both step towards the door. This time, Amon tells me to stay back while he tries the door.

‘It worked,’ I whisper in awe as he successfully turns the knob.

Opening the door, we both enter the room.

‘What…’ I blink in shock as I take in the sparse furnishings.

There is only one chair placed with its back towards us and orientated towards the window but not close enough to it so it would be visible from the outside of the house.

But the most unusual thing is that there is a person there. Someone sitting in that chair and rocking slightly with it.

As we go deeper inside, Amon places himself in front of me, assuming a protective stance.

‘Hello?’ I call out as we tentatively walk around the chair.

The closer we get, however, the more I can make out the features of the person sitting on it. She seems to be female, her hair the whitest white, her face serene and almost wrinkle-free despite her seemingly advanced age.

‘Ma’am, are you alright?’ I ask slowly, worried she might be having some sort of crisis with the way she’d been screaming.

But why? Why would Abel lock her here? Is she a former lover or something of that nature? Her age certainly seems to match.

‘Darcy, wait,’ Amon rasps as he stops in front of the woman, putting his arm in front of me.

‘What is it?’ I frown.

Slowly, she raises her head to look at us, her eyes a deep shade of blue, tears coating her lashes. She has a slender frame, looking even smaller due to her low weight.

God, but would Abel have held her prisoner here?

‘She…’ Amon trails off, his face one of disbelief.

‘You’re finally here,’ the woman croaks, her voice harsh and seemingly overused.

‘What is it? Who is it?’ I ask him since he looks as if he knows something.

‘But it’s not possible. How can this be…’ he whispers, staring at her as if he’d seen a ghost.

‘Amon? You’re scaring me…’

‘You don’t…remember me…mommy?’ the woman sets her eyes on me, her lips pulling up in a gentle smile.

I freeze, my heart hammering in my chest.

‘It can’t be…’ I trail off in absolute shock. ‘Lydia?’ I choke out her name, unable to help the tears from pouring down my cheeks as she gives a small nod.

‘Oh my God, no,’ I mumble as I reach out to hug her and hold her in my arms. ‘You’re Lydia, my God,’ I sway lightly with her, barely in control of my feelings.

Strong arms surround me as Amon wraps us both in his embrace, holding tight.

‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ he whispers on a ragged voice, and as I turn my head to look at him, I note he’s crying too.

We stay like that for moments on end, unable to speak, only hug each other.

God, this is Lydia? How can it be?

Yet even as the questions pile in my head, my heart knows it to be right.

There’s an ineffable warmth at hugging her, at holding her once more in my arms and I feel as if I’m transported again in the past when she was just a little girl—when the world was still a beautiful place and we’d still been a family.

Eventually, though, we separate, the lack of touch creating a crack in my soul.

‘What happened? How come you’re here?’ I ask.

Amon is doing his best to control himself, wiping at his tears and breathing hard.

‘Abel,’ she answers, and it dawns on me that she has difficulty speaking. ‘He wouldn’t…let me…die.’

‘How?’

She takes a deep breath.

‘Spell…necklace,’ she manages to get out, slowly explaining that Abel had used the necklace for a necromancy spell that had put Lydia in a limbo as she was about to die—stuck in a perpetual state of dying but never actually doing so.

‘Oh my God,’ I gasp as the enormity of it registers.

She’s been like this for years. For decades.

‘I should have fucking tortured that little shit,’ Amon bursts out—unusually so for him. ‘He should have suffered more. Fuck!’

‘But why? Why would he do that?’

‘He…needed…predictions,’ she swallows. ‘He…wanted…the…future.’

‘He wanted you to help him get Amon’s powers too, didn’t he?’

She gives me a nod.

‘It wasn’t enough to kill his brother. He had to enslave his sister and torture her like this… My God, but how is this possible,’ I cry out, unable to comprehend how someone could be so evil.

‘I didn’t…give…him,’ she coughs. ‘I…helped…you.’

Slowly, her mouth tips up in a satisfied smile, and it dawns on me that she’s been doing this from the beginning—helping us by leaving little clues.

‘You knew,’ Amon whispers. ‘You knew this would happen to you and you never told me a thing. Damn it, Didi, you knew!‘

She shakes her head lightly.

‘I…had…to. For…the…future…to…become…the future.’

‘What do you mean?’ I frown.

‘For…you…to…live,’ she nods, her smile brightening. ‘I…helped…as I…could.’

‘Lydia…’ I trail off, unable to believe she would sacrifice herself for us.

‘Don’t…trust…them,’ she says, managing to wink at me.

My eyes widen in surprise.

‘It was you. My God. Leo Pierce, too. It was you,’ I whisper.

She nods.

‘All…I…could.’

‘Thank you,’ I tell her from the bottom of my heart. ‘I would have never agreed for you to sacrifice yourself for this, but thank you, Didi.’

A tear falls down her cheek and I catch it with my thumb, brushing it off her skin.

‘I love you. We both love you so much,’ I whisper as I fight my own tears.

‘I…know. I…love…you…too.’

She looks at me and Amon with the most beautiful smile. Even through a curtain of tears, her smile is still brighter than the sun.

‘Now…I…want…to…’ she pauses, swallowing hard. ‘Die.’

‘What?’ I jump up.

Amon’s arms are around me, keeping me from falling.

‘She’s been in limbo, love. All this time, she’s been on the verge of death but she’s never been allowed to. It would give her peace.’

‘Didi,’ I murmur as I regard her and the weariness on her features.

Yet how can I deny her something like that?

Even as my heart breaks for this short reunion, I know that her time has gone—that she needs to find her peace.

At the same time, I look at her and I’m unable to believe that I found her again only to lose her…again.

‘Please,’ she whispers, a broken word that has the power to unravel me.

‘How? Tell us how,’ I get to my knees in front of her, holding her hands in my own. ‘Tell us how.’

‘Daddy,’ she looks at Amon. ‘You…do…it.’

Amon gives her a pained nod.

‘You…will…do it,’ she says as she regards both of us. ‘You…will…return…to…Arkgor.’

I frown as I don’t understand what she means, but I don’t interrupt her.

‘You…will….reign.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I tell her, but she just smiles.

‘You…will.’

She gives me a feeble squeeze before she asks Amon again for death.

‘Darlin’, you should go out.’

‘I’m not leaving her,’ I shake my head at him. ‘I’ll stay with you,’ I assure Lydia.

After everything she’s done, the least I can do is this.

Her lips move as she whispers a barely audible thank you.

Taking one of her hands, Amon brings it to his lips before moving it to his forehead and staying like that for a moment.

‘I couldn’t have done this without you, Didi,’ he murmurs. ‘You turned into such a wonderful woman and I couldn’t have been more proud of calling you my daughter. I love you,’ he whispers before he moves his other hand to her heart, resting it over her chest.

She still has the most beautiful smile on her face as she looks at us.

I monitor her chest as it rises and falls. It does so for a few more times before it stills completely, her head dipping down.

Swiping my palm over her features, I close her eyes as I say a silent farewell, thanking her once more for everything she’d done and apologizing for not being a better mother.

And that’s when I also know what to do next—what she would have wanted.

‘Incendia.‘ I murmur.

Her entire body is swallowed up by black flames until only the ashes remain. But this way, no one will be able to disturb her from her peace.

One second. That’s how long I can hold everything in before a loud cry escapes me, the sob wrenched from deep within me as I fall to the floor.

‘Darcy, darlin’,’ Amon’s arms come around me, his presence the only thing that keeps me from falling apart—and barely.

I cry unlike I’d ever cried—for everyone we’d loved and lost.

‘Shh, please,’ he rasps in my ear, holding me tight and trying to comfort me even as his own heart is breaking.

‘Take me home, please,’ I beg him, my nails lodged in his skin as I hold onto him.

In no time, though, we are back to the catacombs.

My cries are out of control, tears coursing down my cheeks, my heart continuously breaking in my chest. But as I step away from him, I look into his eyes and see the same sadness mirrored there, mixed with physical pain and soul-searing agony.

‘Amon. My beloved Amon,’ I reach for his shirt, tearing it from his body to reveal the absolute horrifying sight that is his flesh—now wholly mangled by deep lacerations.

Blood flows down his chest, so much so that his entire torso is painted red.

My fingers are on his trousers as I undo the buttons and push them down his legs, shocked to see even more damage.

There is not one inch of skin untouched.

My panicked gaze flies to his, but he just shakes his head.

‘No,’ he whispers. ‘I won’t ask you for anything, love. Not now. Not when our hearts are mourning.’

He turns to head to the shower to wash the blood away, but I reach for his arm, stopping him.

‘I’m offering,’ I take a deep breath as hiccups rack my body. ‘Please,’ I whisper as I slowly unbutton my dress, letting it fall to the ground.

‘Make love to me, Amon. Please love me and help me forget. Help me…’ My voice breaks as more cries erupt from my throat, the pain of it making me double over in pain.

‘My darling girl,’ he breathes out, and before I know it, his naked chest is against mine as he lays me on the bed. Our bodies are fitted to perfection as we stare into each other’s eyes—both equally heart-broken, both grieving Lydia’s loss.

Parting my legs, I wrap them around his waist as I reach between our bodies, grabbing his length and positioning it at my entrance.

He’s still staring into my eyes, a sadness unlike any other reflected in those beautiful, beautiful light eyes as they shift between red and black. He knows how precarious this moment is and is holding himself still so I can be in control.

‘Please,’ I whisper as I push his ringed head inside of me, his thickness immediately stretching me.

‘My love,’ he releases a ragged breath as he pushes himself into me, his arms holding me tight as he brings his mouth to mine for a kiss that tastes like death—like tears, sorrow and heartache. We kiss and kiss as he thrusts into me with slow precision, making love to me just like I’d asked him, yet even as we touch and reach for each other, the emptiness in our souls remains.

Pushing his head to the side, I encourage him to take what he needs from me just as I bite into his skin, tasting the blood as it reaches the surface.

So does he.

The bite of pain makes me spasm around him as I feel his blood everywhere.

In my mouth, on my body, even between my legs.

At this moment, it’s only us and the essence of life despite the fact that death hangs over us.

‘I love you. I love you so much,’ I tell him as he increases his pace. ‘Please never leave me, Amon. I would never survive it.’

‘Never, darlin’. Where you go, I go. If you exist so do I,’ he confesses thickly before he kisses me anew. ‘And if you’re not, nor am I.’

I lightly rake my nails down his back, feeling his wounds closing.

He holds me in his tight embrace as he slowly pushes inside of me before retreating, doing so all over again until we both climax at the same time—our minds, just as our hearts, pulsing as one.

It feels like an eternity later that I’ve calmed enough to stop crying.

Amon takes me in his arms, leading me to the shower and cleaning me thoroughly before sliding a big shirt over my head and putting me back to bed.

I’m so spent, I can barely move.

Tinkering with something to the side for a while, he comes back to me holding a necklace—the necklace.

He’d placed the jeweled stone back to its original design.

‘Lydia would have wanted you to wear this, darlin’,’ he whispers as he kneels on the bed beside me, placing the string around my neck.

‘Thank you,’ I strain a smile as I skim my lips across his cheek.

As I lower the neckline of the shirt to sneak the necklace inside, the jewel meets my skin, causing a heat unlike any other to erupt within me.

My eyes widen in alarm, and I open my mouth to ask Amon what’s wrong, yet no sound comes out. There’s just a scorching pain as the stone melts within me, searing itself on my skin and becoming a part of me.

That’s when I see it.

I see everything.