Page 89 of Monster's Pretty Bride

I glance toward my warriors, the few that remain. They deserve to know.

But what can I tell them? That the war is already lost? That they are doomed to fall because of something none of us could control?

No.

I will not tell them anything.

I will not let them see my bones fracturing, my skin splitting apart, my magic slipping through the cracks.

Instead, I turn, voice firm. “We leave. Now.”

As we move, a strange sense of finality settles into my bones.

There is no avoiding what comes next.

I will fight. I will bleed.

I will end this.

But the curse is eating away at me, magic slipping between the cracks of my form. The pain is dull now, a background ache that never truly leaves.

It won’t be long before my body gives out entirely.

It’s inevitable.

My warriors march beside me, silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Each knows what’s coming.

Yet, they follow me.

Loyalty. Honor. Duty. These things have kept us alive.

And they will see us to our end.

I glance at the sky, at the stars that still burn despite the coming war.

The next time I see her, it will be for the last time.

40

ERYSS

The sanctuary’s protective magic hums against my skin as I press a hand to the barrier, preparing to slip through. The ancient spell is thick, a pulse of old energy resisting my passage. I don’t have much magic, but I have enough. The runes sizzle under my touch before the protective shell parts just enough for me to slip into the darkened forest beyond.

I have to find him.

The thought pounds against my ribs like a war drum, violent and unrelenting.

He left me. Again. I let him.

My fingers curl into fists, nails digging into my palms. He’s convinced himself this is his burden alone, that his death is some sort of inevitable sacrifice that will save me. Save everyone.

But I won’t let him die.

The night is too quiet. Not even the insects dare to sing. A whisper of unease slides down my spine, a warning I don’t have time to heed.

Footsteps.

I pivot, magic coiling in my fingertips. Catalina emerges from the shadows, face pale, lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re going after him,” she says, voice laced with accusation.

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