Page 61 of A Touch of Madness

She swallows hard.

And she looks at me, straight-faced.

“But you didn’t, did you?” she asks, slowly tilting her head again, a smirk creeping up on her face. “You’ll break before I do.”

Her voice is nothing but a murmur, but it might as well be a prophecy.

And for the first time, I believe it.

I don’t remember walking out of the chamber.

One moment, I’m standing in front of my sister, watching the last pieces of her slip through my fingers, listening to her voice break apart my resolve like cracks spreading through glass.

The next, I’m moving through the stone corridor, the air thick and damp around me, torches flickering along the walls, throwing my shadow into jagged shapes I barely recognize. My legs are carrying me forward, but my mind is still back there—stuck in the way Lara’s voice slithered over my skin, in the way her eyes devoured the light.

She’s gone. It’s solidified now.

The thought presses against my ribs, sharp and cruel, leaving no room to breathe.

I don’t realize I’m shaking until I hit the top of the stairs and nearly collapse. My knees buckle, the weight of everything sinking into me all at once, and I brace a hand against the cold stone wall to steady myself. My breath is coming too fast, uneven, my body threatening to unravel under the crushing weight of what ifs and should haves?—

And then he’s there.

Lucian.

I don’t hear him approach, but I feel him, like a shift in the air, like gravity itself recognizes his presence. His arms are around me before I can fall, a steady force grounding me, pulling me back before I can spiral too far.

“Love,” he murmurs, his voice rough with something unreadable.

I let myself sink into him, pressing my face against the smooth fabric of his coat, my fingers gripping the lapels like a lifeline. The scent of him—old leather, cedar, the faintest trace of something darker—wraps around me, comforting in a way I can’t explain.

I can’t keep doing this.

To myself. To him. To any of us.

The thought rises, unbidden. Not just because I’m exhausted, not just because my body is still weak from breaking the Mirror, but because I feel like I’m continuously losing pieces of myself.

Lucian’s hand moves to the back of my head, his fingers threading into my hair, holding me close. He doesn’t speak at first, doesn’t rush me to say anything. He just lets me breathe.

The silence stretches between us, heavy and fragile, until finally, I whisper, “She’s not coming back, is she?”

His arms tighten around me. “We don’t know that.”

I pull back enough to meet his gaze, my throat tight. “Did you see her? She’s… she’s something else. Like she’s been hollowed out and replaced with someone I don’t know. And she looked at me, Lucian. She looked at me and told me I should have let her die.”

His expression darkens, his jaw clenching. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

I let out a humorless laugh, stepping away, rubbing a shaky hand over my face. “I think she knows exactly what she’s saying.”

Lucian exhales slowly, his fingers curling at his sides like he’s fighting something in himself. “Then we will make her remember.”

I shake my head, my eyes burning. “What if she doesn’t want to be saved?” The words scrape against my throat, raw and painful. “What if I’m just dragging her back into something she’s already accepted?”

Lucian’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s something fierce in his gaze, something unyielding. “And what if you’re the only one who can stop her from becoming something worse?”

His words settle into my chest like a stone, heavy with truth.

Lucian studies me, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides, like he’s resisting the urge to reach for me again. “You need to rest, Sylvie.”

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