Page 86 of Fading Sun

“Accepted,” the Buddha says.

Damien steps back, a mixture of relief and sorrow on his face.

Amber moves toward him, hesitant, before reaching for him and squeezing his hand.

His posture remains stiff, although he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he gives her a small, almost imperceptible nod, acknowledging the gesture.

Relief settles in my chest.

Because it’s about time.

If Amber and Damien don’t embrace their marriage—if they don’t open themselves to the love destined between them—there’s a higher chance that the Shadow Lord will pull her into the darkness.

Once he has her in his grip, all will be lost.

Please, Damien, I think. Open your soul to her again. Allow her to love you, like you were allowing yourself to love her.

“Morgan,” the Buddha’s voice booms through the chamber, yanking me out of my thoughts.

It’s my turn.

I take a deep breath, my heart racing as I step forward.

The pendant around my neck feels heavier than ever.

I know what I have to do, even though it tears at my heart.

They’ll never forgive me for it.

Just like I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive them for turning on me.

I can’t hold onto them forever, I tell myself. Not after they chose immortality and power over their trust in me—their sister.

My fingers drift to my necklace again, but I don’t unclasp it.

Instead, I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out my dagger.

The blade catches the light, sharp and cold. Everyone’s eyes are on me, but I block them out, focusing on the task at hand. The one I’m unsure I’ll be able to go through with, even though I’m so, so close.

No, I think. My sisters sacrificed their trust in me. And now, I will sacrifice my dependence on them.

With a deep, steadying breath, I press the dagger against the place behind my ear, right over my comet tattoo. The one I got at the same time as my sisters, using the same pot of ink as they did. Zara chose a flame, Willow a phoenix, and me a comet.

The tattoos represent our connection to each other. Our devotion to each other.

Not anymore.

Without another thought, I break through my skin with the blade, crying out as it sinks into my flesh. I keep the cut shallow, so it slices just underneath the tattoo, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Fiery pain sears through me, and blood trickles down my neck, warm and wet. But I keep going, forcing the blade under and up, until the patch of skin is finally free.

It falls into my other hand, and I open my palm, the comet tattoo inked onto the piece of removed flesh displayed for the others to see.

Staring down at it, I feel a strange mix of pain, anger… and relief.

Amber runs to me, holding her palm to my neck, covering the wound. I kept it shallow, so I’ll survive. Especially since, given my blood witch abilities, the flesh is already healing.

“Stop.” I step away from Amber, tears welling in my eyes. “Please, stop.”

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