Page 56 of Devoted
I needed Emilia for reasons of my own.
She had to lock my magic back down.
The darkness at my center had grown uncontrollable, and while it had been decades since I’d lost control, I was older and far more powerful now.
Far more deadly.
Like before, Emilia lay on a black marble platform like an offering, her white dress carefully arranged around her, hair spread in a dark fan, pale hands folded on her stomach.
Emilia DiSange was beautiful in her stillness. Terrifying, even in sleep.
Many, many years ago, she had saved me, and now I would save her in return by evening up the score that could never fully be repaid.
“Now what?” Ember whispered.
I was already moving, crossing the floor in two deliberate strides, bringing her with me until we both stood over Emilia, gauging the paleness of her cheeks, the depth of her sleep, the sheer power of the spell keeping her prisoner in her own mind.
I unspooled my shadows, letting them roam free, sending them surging up and over the sides of Emilia’s plinth until they touched her face with incredible reverence.
Much like the Drax, all I sensed was a void, an endless stretch of nothingness.
“As I thought, this is Blackwood’s magic, sealing her inside her own mind. But I can undo his spell,” I muttered, cracking my knuckles. “Just give me a minute to think this through.”
The spell—like layers of black spider silk, woven around Emilia’s memories—didn’t merely force sleep. This magic convinced her that time itself did not exist. Centuries of dust could settle on top of her still body, and she would never know; she was that thoroughly locked inside her own mind.
“Stand over there, by the door,” I told Emberline softly. “If anything seems… wrong, you get through that door and get back outside, into the mists. Dante will sense something is wrong and wake you up.”
“What about you?” She set her hands on her hips, defiant to the bitter end.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you,” I lied. Chances were, if this went wrong, I’d be trapped inside stasis with Emilia until I found a way out, but I didn’t intend for Emberline to pay the price of my own hubris. True, I was here to repay an old debt to Emilia, but more than that…
I wanted to undo Lord Blackwood’s magic.
If only to prove to myself I could.
As soon as she was safely away, I whispered an ancient unbinding spell, the finely woven strands writhing like serpents as they thinned… then, one by one… snapped.
Each severed end slashed through the stillness with a violent hiss, finally exploding into a cloud of black. Every thread breaking sounded like bones cracking, and I pushed my magic deeper, harder as Blackwood’s spell frayed apart.
All that unleashed power clogged the air, immersing us in near-total darkness, but color was returning to Emilia’s face, her eyes moving back and forth behind her closed lids.
“Per vetus sanguinem et noctem, solve hanc quietem.”
When only one layer remained—the original one, the most difficult one—I murmured the final piece of the spell, pouring my shadows into that tangled knot, thick, blackened threads pulsing with malice, like infected heartbeats. The magic shoved back, then the knot unraveled.
For one suspended moment, the world held perfectly still.
Then Emilia’s eyes flew open, and inside their depths, fury blazed.
Power rippled through the room, sending Emberline and me stumbling back, the shock crushing the air from my lungs. For a moment, I thought Emilia might kill us, then, finally, recognition dawned.
“Emberline.” Her voice was a cracked echo of her husky tone. “Nico.”
She surged upward from the plinth, then collapsed, frowning, confused by her own weakness, by the realization she didn’t know where she was or how long she’d been here.
“You dare trespass inside my head? I’ve killed for less.”
“This was the only way to break you out of stasis,” Emberline explained in a thin voice. “Since you forbade us from setting foot on your island ever again. You could say thank you, but I know better than to push my luck. Still…” Her eyes flashed. “You’re welcome.”
