Page 112 of Ashen Souls

I ran until the burning in my lungs forced me to a staggering halt beneath a rusted storefront awning. The downpour had drenched my clothes, plastering my hair against my neck. Water dripped from my chin as I pushed the wet strands out of my eyes with trembling hands.

Running wouldn't save Ethan. It wouldn't save Harper. Hiding in the rain wouldn't close the gateway Daeren intended to rend open.

If I was the living key to his dimensional prison, I needed to understand exactly how the lock worked. I couldn't survive on assumptions anymore. I refused to exist in this paralyzed state of dread, just waiting to see who he would tear apart next.

31

♫ THE PLOT IN YOU—FEEL NOTHING

Istood dripping on the hardwood floor of my apartment, tracking rainwater and grime. The chill clinging to my skin meant nothing. Waiting was no longer an option.

If I stayed here, waiting for him to pull me across the veil again, I would lose my mind. He would drag me into his domain, disarm me with that calm cadence, and I would end up listening when I needed to be demanding. I would arrive on my knees.

This time, I was going to land on my feet.

My phone still lay on the floorboards where I had dropped it. Harper’s name illuminated the screen, but I ignored it. She couldn’t help me. No one could.

I walked into the bedroom. The ring lay in the corner, exactly where I had hurled it.

If Avelia’s blood truly ran through me, if the sigil on my wrist was a functional bond, then this piece of jewelry was the ignition switch.

I crouched and picked it up. My hands shook, but I closed my fingers tightly around the metal.

I closed my eyes.

I pulled up the memory of his skin against mine. The degrading desperation of my own body craving his touch. His mouth. His hands on my waist. I forced myself to walk right into the center of the ache.

Then I shoved the band onto the ring finger of my left hand.

The symbol on my wrist ignited. Searing, luminous lines spiderwebbed up my forearm. A jolt of power flooded my veins, jerking me upright.

The air in my bedroom turned stifling and dense. The walls and the furniture ceased to exist, giving way to a pitch-dark void that swallowed the room whole.

The floor dropped out from under me, but I didn't fall. Uneven basalt materialized beneath my boots.

The air tasted of cinders, thick with an ominous hum that vibrated across my skin.

I stood in the same chamber from before, but the remaining illusions had been burned away. No opulent bed waiting to catch a willing captive. Daeren’s realm lay stripped to its bones—soaring walls of jagged obsidian bleeding infernal fire.

This was his reality. And for the first time, I had entered it by choice.

Rainwater rolled from the hem of my hoodie, hissing as it hit the blazing rock. My wet leggings clung to my legs. I was an intruder in my own clothes, crossing the threshold on my own terms. That alone was a victory.

I turned slowly, scanning the room. He wasn’t there.

For a brief second, the vast emptiness unnerved me more than his presence ever had. The shadows seemed alert.

“Daeren.”

The echo of his name hadn't even faded before I felt him. A magnetic pressure materialized behind me.

I spun around, stepping backward to put distance between us. I met his gaze head-on, forcing my spine to stay rigid, refusing to flinch.

He stood a few feet away, relaxed and infuriatingly composed. His eyes glinted with something dangerously close to amusement. He looked as he always did: untouched by urgency, untouched by doubt.

“Well, well, well,” he murmured, a wicked drawl coloring his voice. “This is new.”

His gaze dragged over me, lingering just long enough to register my soaked clothes.