Holly

  Holly froze at the threshold of the chamber.

  For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to a single point in front of her, as if everything else had been stripped away—wind, cold, motion, breath. The vast interior of the tower pressed in around her, its curved walls swallowing sound and light alike, but she barely registered it.

  All she could see was Ariel.

  She was on her knees inside the ritual circle, head bowed, shoulders slack. Black ichor coated her from crown to bare feet, clinging thickly to her skin and wings alike, weighing them down until they sagged like drowned feathers. The corruption dulled every familiar line of her—her softness, her warmth, the quiet strength Holly had memorized over years of love—until Ariel looked like a statue carved from oil and grief.

  Holly’s chest tightened so sharply she thought, for a terrifying instant, that her heart had stopped.

  “Ariel…?”

  The word barely made it past her lips.

  It came out thin, fragile, like something she might shatter if she spoke again. She took a step forward without meaning to, boots scraping softly against the stone.

  Behind her, Fornaskr made a sound—low and broken, a breath dragged through clenched teeth. His hands trembled at his sides, daggers forgotten.

  Holly swallowed hard. Louder this time.

  “Ariel.”

  No answer.

  Her vision blurred. Panic surged, white-hot and dizzying, and suddenly she was moving—lunging toward the circle, arms already reaching.

  “Holly—!”

  Fornaskr was there in an instant. He stepped in front of her and caught her shoulders, solid and immovable. She slammed into him, fingers clawing at his arms as she tried to push past.

  “Let me go,” she choked. “That’s her, that’s—she needs me—”

  “I know,” he said, voice rough with strain. “But look at the circle.”

  She fought him anyway, panic lending her strength. “I don’t care—!”

  “Holly.”

  He held his ground, eyes shining, jaw set. “It’s a trap. Whatever did this—whatever pulled her here—wants someone else to step inside. If you go in like that… you could be lost too.”

  The words landed hard.

  Holly’s resistance faltered, the truth of it crashing into her all at once. Her legs buckled beneath her, strength bleeding out as quickly as it had come.

  She collapsed to her knees.

  The sound that tore from her chest was raw and unrestrained; a sob that scraped her throat raw as it forced its way out. Her hands came up to her face, fingers digging into her palms as she folded in on herself.

  Fornaskr dropped with her without hesitation. He pulled her into his arms, holding her firmly as her body shook.

  “She’s breathing,” he said quietly, over and over, as if the words were a lifeline. “I can see it. She’s still breathing.”

  Holly clutched at his tunic, sobbing into his shoulder. The smell of smoke and cold stone filled her lungs. Ariel was right there. So close she could see the rise and fall of her chest...

  And still impossibly far away...

  After a long moment, her crying softened into broken, hitching breaths.

  She lifted her head.

  That was when she saw the light again.

  It hovered just beyond the ritual circle, suspended in the air like a captive star. Pure radiance, compressed and pulsing, its edges folding in on themselves as if reality couldn’t quite contain it. It hurt to look at for too long, but Holly couldn’t tear her gaze away.

  And the closer she focused, the louder something became inside her head.

  Laughter.

  Warm and familiar.

  A voice she knew better than her own.

  Holly’s breath caught.

  “No…” she whispered.

  The sound of Ariel’s laugh threaded through her thoughts again. Echoing, fragmented, like a memory replaying itself out of order. Holly’s heart slammed against her ribs as understanding dawned, slow and terrifying.

  Is that…?

  Her mouth opened to give the thought shape—to say it out loud—

  —and another voice cut through the chamber.

  “Yes. A soul.”

  Holly snapped her head toward the sound, heart leaping into her throat.

  Someone stood near the far edge of the chamber, half-shrouded in shadow. Tall and gaunt, their form wrapped in layered robes etched with glowing runes that crawled and shifted like living things. A long staff rested in their hand, its surface carved with symbols that radiated a cold, deliberate malice.

  The air around them felt foul.

  Heavy.

  Fornaskr tensed beside her, rising to his feet.

  Holly stood as well, summoning a thread instinctively. It snapped into existence at her side, humming with restrained light as she steadied it in her grip.

  “What did you do to her?” she demanded, voice shaking with fury.

  The figure stepped forward, the runes along their staff flaring faintly. Their eyes glinted with cruel satisfaction.

  “We did what was necessary,” they said calmly. “Minnithrall’s soul has been torn from its vessel. The final restraint removed.”

  Holly’s stomach dropped.

  “The ritual is nearly complete,” the figure continued. “Soon, Oblivion will stand unbound. And then… all will understand its glory.”

  Holly moved.

  The thread lashed forward in a blinding arc of light.

  The figure lifted their staff and a shield of runic energy flared into place, catching the strike with a crack that rang through the chamber. Light and darkness collided, sending a shockwave rippling across the stone floor.

  Fornaskr surged forward at the same moment, Firechain whipping free from his waist as he struck in tandem.

  The chamber erupted into motion.

  The robed figure vanished in a blink, their form smearing sideways as if reality had stuttered. Holly’s thread tore through empty air, slashing sparks from the stone where they had stood a heartbeat before.

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  “Coward,” Holly spat, twisting mid-stride. The thread snapped back to her hand like a living thing, coiling tighter around her forearm.

  “They are not hiding,” the figure’s voice echoed from behind her. “They are preparing.”

  Runes flared along the floor.

  Fornaskr shouted a warning, already moving, firechain snapping outward in a blazing arc. The chain struck just as a sigil detonated beneath his feet, fire and force colliding in a thunderous crack that rattled the tower walls.

  Holly felt the shockwave hit her spine. She dug in, threads blooming outward in a defensive lattice as stone fragments screamed past her.

  “You ripped her apart,” Holly snarled, eyes locked on the figure as they reappeared near the far wall. “You did this to my wife.”

  The figure tilted their head, studying her with unsettling calm. “She was a vessel. A necessary one.”

  Holly’s vision went red.

  Threads exploded outward—dozens of them—lancing across the chamber in a furious storm. They struck like spears, like whips, like knives of pure intent. The air screamed as they cut through it.

  The figure raised their staff, runes blazing white-hot.

  A dome of sigils snapped into place just in time.

  Threads struck the barrier and rebounded in showers of light, but Holly didn’t relent. She pulled, twisted, pressed, pouring everything she had into the assault. The threads shrieked as they scraped along the shield, searching for purchase.

  Fornaskr darted in low and fast, using the chaos. He slid beneath a sweeping rune-blast and drove the firechain forward, the weapon flaring as it bit into the edge of the barrier.

  “Hold them!” he shouted.

  Holly gritted her teeth. “Trying!”

  The figure’s eyes flicked toward Fornaskr. A single rune burned itself into the air between them.

  Holly felt it a split second before it fired.

  “FORNASKR—!”

  The blast detonated.

  A wave of foul energy slammed into him mid-stride, hurling him across the chamber like a discarded doll. He struck the wall with a sickening crack and collapsed, unmoving.

  “No—!”

  Holly spun, instinct screaming. Another rune flared at the figure’s staff—

  She threw everything she had into defense.

  Threads snapped into a dense shield just as the blast hit. The impact drove her backward, boots skidding across stone, arms burning as she held the barrier together. The explosion didn’t pierce it—but the force sent her sliding, breath tearing from her lungs.

  The moment it ended, she acted.

  A thread shot out, wrapped around Fornaskr’s torso, and yanked him across the floor toward her. She dragged him behind a broken pillar, lowering him gently as her hands shook.

  “Stay down,” she whispered desperately. “Please…”

  She turned back and noticed something.

  The light before Ariel had grown brighter.

  Louder.

  It pulsed now, each beat hammering through Holly’s skull. Ariel’s voice, closer this time, layered with warmth and pain and longing.

  Holly…

  Her breath hitched.

  The figure laughed softly. “You feel it now, don’t you? What we’ve freed.”

  Holly rose slowly, threads unfurling around her like wings. Her grief sharpened into something cold and lethal.

  “I’m going to end you,” she said quietly. “And then I’m bringing her back.”

  The figure lifted their staff...

  ...and Holly attacked again, faster, fiercer, threads striking in a relentless flurry as the chamber shook with the sound of clashing powers.

  Holly didn’t think. She didn’t plan. She felt: the rhythm of the threads, the pulse of the light before Ariel, the way the corruption recoiled when she pushed back against it.

  The robed figure vanished again.

  Threads slammed into stone where they had been, gouging glowing scars into the floor.

  “Predictable,” the figure’s voice echoed, calm and maddeningly patient. “Your grief makes you reckless.”

  “Good,” Holly shot back, teeth bared. “Because your arrogance makes you slow.”

  She pulled.

  One thread split mid-flight, forking, reweaving itself in a heartbeat. It struck low instead of high, skimming the floor before snapping upward like a serpent.

  The figure reappeared to her left.

  And the thread caught them.

  It pierced straight through the layered robes and sank into flesh with a wet, incandescent crack.

  The figure screamed.

  The sound ripped free of them as their body jerked violently, the staff clattering from their grasp as they staggered backward.

  “No—!”

  They tried to vanish.

  The thread burned brighter.

  Anchored.

  Their teleportation stuttered and failed, reality refusing to release them from its grip. Holly felt the resistance through the thread; felt something snap into place.

  “You don’t get to run,” she snarled.

  She yanked.

  The figure slammed into the back wall hard enough to fracture stone. Before they could recover, another thread lashed out, wrapping around their torso, then another pinning their arm, then a third snaking around their throat. Not choking, not yet, but holding them there.

  Suspended.

  Helpless.

  The runes carved into their robes flickered wildly, some guttering out entirely as Holly poured energy down the threads. Light surged along them in blinding waves, searing wherever it touched.

  The figure thrashed, teeth clenched as they tried to summon another rune, another spell—

  Holly stepped closer.

  Her voice dropped, cold and precise.

  “You took her apart,” she said. “You thought she was something you could use.”

  She tightened her grip.

  Burning light tore through the threads, flooding the figure’s body with radiant force. The runes along their skin shattered one by one, popping like sparks drowned in water.

  Their struggles weakened.

  Their head slumped forward.

  The threads dimmed slightly as the last of their resistance collapsed.

  Holly released them.

  The figure fell in a crumpled heap at the base of the wall, silent.

  Silence crashed down over the chamber.

  Holly stood there for a heartbeat longer, chest heaving, threads slowly retracting back into her control. Then she turned.

  Back to Ariel.

  Back to the light.

  Her legs trembled as she took her first step toward her wife, the air growing thick around her.

  The ritual circle loomed larger with every step. Runes etched into the floor pulsed faintly beneath the black ichor, humming with a dark energy that made her skin crawl. She stopped just short of the boundary, staring down at Ariel’s bowed head, the corruption swallowing every familiar curve of her body.

  “I’m here,” Holly whispered, voice breaking despite her effort to steady it. “I’m right here.”

  Ariel didn’t stir.

  The light before her flared again, brighter now, almost frantic. Ariel’s voice filled Holly’s mind. Not words this time, but impressions. Warmth. Laughter. The way Ariel used to hum under her breath when she was thinking. The tone of her voice when she said Holly’s name when she was half-asleep.

  Holly dropped to her knees.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, the words spilling out in a rush. “I’m so sorry I didn’t act sooner. I should’ve known something was wrong when the music started. I should’ve—”

  Her breath hitched. She pressed her palm to the stone floor, grounding herself.

  “There was nothing I could’ve done back then,” she continued quietly. “I know that now. The night you died… that wasn’t my failure.”

  She lifted her head, eyes blazing through tears.

  “But this isn’t that night.”

  Holly straightened, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Her resolve hardened, grief compressing into something sharp and unyielding.

  “I can protect you now,” she said. “I can save you.”

  A thread blossomed into existence at her side, luminous and steady. It hummed softly, responding to her will. Holly guided it carefully, hands trembling as she positioned it behind Ariel’s back.

  “I hope you can’t feel this,” she murmured. “I really do.”

  She took a breath and gave the command.

  The thread drove forward.

  Ariel’s body reacted instantly. Her spine arched, arms jerking outward as if pulled by unseen strings. The corruption rippled across her skin, disturbed by the intrusion, but Holly held firm, teeth clenched as she pushed through the resistance.

  The thread emerged from Ariel’s chest in a burst of light and shadow, stretching forward until it connected with the blazing soul hovering before her.

  The moment they touched, the chamber screamed.

  Energy surged along the thread, so intense Holly cried out, her knees sliding across the stone as she fought to hold on. The soul flared blindingly bright, its light pouring back toward Ariel in a torrent.

  “I love you,” Holly sobbed, clutching the thread with both hands. “I love you so much. Please... please come back to me.”

  She pulled.

  The resistance was immense, like dragging something through molasses and mud all at once.

  Holly screamed, muscles burning, heart pounding so hard she thought it might tear itself free.

  And then—

  The soul tore loose.

  It slammed back into Ariel’s chest in an explosion of light.

  The impact threw Holly backward, the air rushing from her lungs as the chamber was flooded with white.