Page 112 of The Sacred and the Tormented

Images of herself with the male, their bodies entwined blinked from existence. Pictures of her hand in his, the way he’dlooked at her, the gentleness in his voice, it all flipped off, like a light switch, leaving her in a cold dark room.

There was still a light in the distance. Arianna ran toward it, trying to flee from oily hands chasing after her.

Arianna slammed open the thick door and dove inside a room that resembled a small temple. A golden braided rope sat within, reaching through the floor and ceiling. A tether to someone she couldn’t remember.

Hands beat against the door and Arianna pressed her body against it, fighting to keep the shadows from breaking through. They’d ruin it. They’d destroy this beautiful thing before her.

The shadows slithered in from beneath the door anyway. She tried to stomp them out, to use her magic to keep them at bay, but the magic wouldn’t answer her call. The creature within her was gone, locked away, hidden.

The shadows beat against the door again, splintering the wood.

Tears spilled down Arianna’s cheeks as she watched those shadows stretch toward the glowing rope. Dark fingers wrapped around the strands, digging at the edges until they frayed.

Pain lanced through Arianna’s chest and she dove forward. She clawed at the shadows, desperate to pull them away from the rope, to protect it at any cost. But they slipped through her fingers, continuing their assault.

Then the door burst open and those hands reached in, wrapping around the rope, pulling at it from both ends while the shadows slipped through the threads, digging, digging, digging.

No, no, no, no, no.

She began screaming the word, unsure why it mattered at all. Unsure why this room was so important.

The walls crumbled around her, the ceiling falling in great heaps around her body as she crumbled in on herself.

Then the rope snapped.

Her body was yanked from the room and Arianna covered her face with her hands as she plummeted into icy blackness, her chest raw and bleeding.

Something warm wrapped around her then. Something hot, nearly scolding. It stitched the fabric of her torn reality.

The pain eased little by little, stitch by stitch until it vanished entirely and she was left to hang, just like those old tapestries with fibers that were too old to mend.

Color returned, though the various shades seemed duller than before. Still, she reached for them, floating and clinging to things from her past.

Then her body and those colors drifted off to a land where her head didn’t pound. Where cold shackles didn’t hold her prisoner and she was finally safe at last.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Ellie

My name is Ellie. I am the—

My name is Evelyn.

My name is Evelyn.

My name is Evelyn.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Rion

Rion woke to his body being dragged along a cold floor. His arms were above him, wrists pulled taut with the familiar bite of metal. Of iron.

But that was nothing compared to the searing agony lancing through his chest.

He tried to keep quiet and fight the blinding pain that felt like a hot iron had severed through—through—Rion’s eyes snapped open.

No.

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