She grabbed a hold of his tunic, and with strength that she had no idea she had, she ripped it open to find two huge wounds.

Oh Gods, oh Gods.

Vomit was crawling up her throat and the cold feeling of death was skating across her skin.

She could feel the spirits of the Otherside watching her as she struggled to breathe. “Torin, please, please,” she called to him—or maybe to the Gods. “Please. I need you. You won’t die. You can’t. I need you.”

“Angel.” He tried to place a hand to her face, but he was too weak. He was beginning to shake. “Save yourself.”

A roar erupted from her, and the whole temple grounds quaked again. Even Balan took a step back. Sybil arrived and gripped Emara’s hand. “Emara, listen to me. You need to focus if you want to heal him. Block everything else out.”

She tried, but her blistering rage sought revenge and carnage. It consumed everything, even her pain.

“Emara, there is darkness coming from your hands,” Sybil announced. “That will not save him. You need to focus on the Light of your healing magic.”

A small scoff came from the king. Emara glared at him, ready to end his life, the darkness building in her veins.

“Do you want to know the beauty of this moment?” Balan asked so calmly it made her want to burst into flames.

She let a fierce growl rip from her throat.

“I have the Immortality Stone. The Stone that I stole from your mother as she tried to end me can save his life.”

Her mother had used the Immortality Stone and the Protection Stone to ensnare Balan in the underworld. Then why had she had the Resurrection Stone?

“No,” Torin choked, gargling on a substance that Emara couldn’t bear to name. “You—you w-will be fine without me.”

She heard a cry from Gideon and a roar from Marcus.

Tears blinded her, but she placed her hands over his wounds, trying to pull back on the darkness and let the light in. “I am not letting you die. No. I am not letting you die.”

Sybil chanted something under her breath, but Emara couldn’t focus on what it was.

Torin somehow found the strength to pull her to his lips. She knew it was his way of saying goodbye. “Warriors never die, Emara. Their soul…their soul will always be a warrior. I will always look over you from the Otherside.”

She cradled Torin’s head in her arms. “You are going to be okay. You are not leaving me. You are not leaving me.” She stroked the damp, dark hair from his eyes as her tears fell onto his face.

A bloody cough made its way up his throat, but he still tried his best to show her his dimples. “If I die protecting y-you, it was all worth it. You were worth everything.” The glittering of his eyes faded slightly, the same way Callyn’s did before she passed over. “Every sassy remark, every…elbow.” He forced a smile. “Every kiss, every laugh. All of it. I would die over and over again just to see you smile one last time.”

“Stop talking like that.” Her tears splashed onto his bloody face and panic absolutely drenched her soul. “I am not going to lose you. You are the best thing to ever happen to me, and I need you alive. Even if you hate me for what I am about to do, I need you alive, Torin Blacksteel. I can’t—I won’t lose you.” She turned to face Balan. The faces of her clan were pale and taut, and Kellen was weeping as Arlo Stryker tried to hold his hand through the tendrils of darkness that rooted them where they stood. “I will do it,” she choked. “I will do what you want. Anything. But I need the Immortality Stone to save him and I need your word that you will give me it.”

“No, Emara,” Torin coughed out, and she gripped him tighter. Balan smiled. “No. Emara, no,” Torin spat out, trying to move. “Please a-angel, live. Live…without me.”

Choking on a cry of her own, she gathered enough strength to ignore the man that she loved more than herself. “I am not stupid,” she cried. “I know he’s dying and I know that is what you want.” She gripped into the ripped pieces of Torin’s tunic.

“Artem, if Gideon can’t c-convince her, you need to,” Torin hissed, his breathing laboured. “Do not let her make…any…deals.”

“Brother.” Artem’s voice was soft and pleading.

Moments. She had moments left. Seconds.

“Name your price, Balan, and I will pay it,” she roared. “I will do anything.”

Artem Stryker cursed.

Balan moved towards her, and she lifted a bloody palm into the air and ignited her darkness. It swirled around her fingertips, waiting to be released.

The King of the Underworld halted causally, knowing he had won. “Your payment will be that you will become the Princess of the Underworld, the Empress of Darkness, and follow me into the nine realms. You are the key to it all. You will be the queen of it all one day.”