Page 156 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

Nemos turns to Theelia.

“There is much more for the two of you to do in this realm,” Theelia tells me, a calculated look crossing her expression. “It is not her time. Nor is it yours.”

I fall silent for a moment.

“All right,” I tell them at last. “I’ll do it.”

Nemos doesn’t hesitate. “You must make haste. Once your mate falls into my embrace, there is no returning.”

“Then I won’t waste another moment.” A newfound purpose surges through me, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I have to save her. I have to bring her back.

Back to this world.

Back to me.

Nemos only bows his head and closes his eyes. To his side, Theelia watches.

A tingling sensation spreads across my skin, not sparing a single part of my body. Dizziness clouds my vision and dulls my senses, but it’s only for a moment.

Then, I’m floating.

Looking down, I see myself—now slumped on the floor, beside Cryssa’s body.

Nemos flicks his eyes up, directly at me. “Go now, little king.”

I turn away, scanning my surroundings. I’m still in the throne room. Stone walls still surround me, my father’s splintered bronze throne still displayed in the room’s center. But now, I can see so much more, beyond the throne room.

The stone walls surrounding me are opaque, merely a near-invisible barrier between me and the never-ending darkness. And, just as Nemos promised, I feel the bond again. Relief surges through my chest.

I feel her.

She’s here, somewhere. Though, the connection between our souls is faint.

Even now, my time to save her grows short. Our bond becomes even weaker the longer I wait. I raise my hands and kick my feet, attempting to move forward. To my surprise and relief, I do.

I surge forward, this time simply on command—no movements required.

As I do, I see small, glowing orbs sprinkling the darkness. I approach one, my eyes wide.

These are souls.

The souls of the dead, moving toward the great unknown as if they’re being drawn there by an unseen force.

Urgency powers my movements, and I become more frantic with each new soul I approach.

I pass many souls.

Yet, none of them are my mate.

None of them are Cryssa.

I feel as though I am losing her all over again, the pain and agony of her absence in my mind like a wound torn anew. This is my one opportunity to bring her back. My one opportunity to save her.

To return her to my arms.

“Cryssa!” I cry out. My throat tightens, making my voice hoarse. “Cryssa! If you can hear me, Little Fawn, say something!” I snap my head back and forth, searching for a sign. Anything that shows she heard me.

---