Page 166 of Crowned In Venom

The magic digs deeper.

My soul is unraveling, piece by piece.

I feel the blood pouring from me, soaking the altar, dripping onto the stone floor below.

I can barely hear the Ghost’s voice anymore.

Only the pain.

Only the tearing.

Only the hollow, ragged gasps scraping up my throat.

This shouldn’t be possible.

I should be dead.

I wish I was.

A sob wrenches from my lips, but it sounds more like an animal’s dying cry.

"Make it stop," I try to say, but I don’t know if I actually speak the words.

Then—

A whisper.

Soft. Gentle.

Familiar.

"Anya, my darling girl…"

The warmth of the voice cuts through the pain like a single ray of light.

I force my eyes open.

The world is hazy. Warped. The pain is still there, unbearable, but something else rises in its place.

A figure.

A woman.

My mother.

Her hair is exactly as I remember it, thick waves of chestnut, her face gentle but lined with sorrow.

"You must endure, little flame," she whispers.

I choke on a sob.

"Mama—?"

Another shape appears.

Broad shoulders. A strong jaw. My father’s kind, steady eyes.

Then another.

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