Page 76 of Barely Breathing

“You need to eat.” Costin appears in the doorway. His clothes have changed, but his face still carries the weight of his sister’s visit. He moves to stand behind my chair, his cool fingers brushing my shoulder. His formal posture and perfect manners don’t seem contrived in this setting. They’re muscle memories bred into him during his human era.

“Are the werewolves gone?” I ask.

He nods and turns his attention to my food. “Eat. Your body needs strength.”

“I need answers more.” I set down my spoon, the metal ringing against the dish. His skin doesn’t look as translucent as before, and his wounds are already healed. I wonder if he stopped to feed. “Talk to me. What is going on with you?”

He’s quiet for so long I think he’ll refuse. Finally, he takes the chair beside me, turning it to face mine. In the candlelight, his eternal youth seems more like a curse than a blessing. It’s like I forget sometimes how long he’s lived. I know the truth, but it gets buried in my short timeline with him. There is so much I don’t know, might never know, might never understand.

But is it mine to judge?

I think of my worst sins, the ones that keep me up at night, the ones that fill me with shame. Would I want to be judged for those moments over all the rest?

I think of Paul and Diana, where they are now, all because they showed kindness to me, a stranger. That is my biggest shame and my eternal guilt. If they die, that is what I will carry inside me. Tears enter my eyes at the thought.

We stare at each other, unable to speak. There’s an exhaustion between us that settles like a thick, smothering blanket. So much has happened to me ina short time. It’s hard to believe I’m not who I was six months ago.

Is this my life now? Threats and apocalyptic adventure? It’s so far from the normal,mortallife I dreamed of.

“Costin—?”

A servant appears, making me jump. “Lady Astrid has returned with the book. She awaits you in the library.”

Costin is instantly on his feet. I think he must feel relief not to have to talk about his feelings.

I stand, and my legs are still shaky from everything that’s happened. The amulet’s heat intensifies, and I swear I can feel Draakmar’s consciousness pressing harder against mine. The dragon’s whispers have become almost like a white noise. Whatever’s in that book, the dragon already knows it’s not good news.

We step past the destruction from Elizabeth’s attack, and I see a servant already cleaning up the mess in the office. Costin doesn’t seem bothered by the splintered furniture and crumbling stone columns as he leads me to his library. It’s lighter than we’d left it, and I can see the details previously hidden by shadows. It’s funny how light can change the feel of things. Where before it was gothic and unwelcoming, it now feels regally romantic. Well,except for the whole researching the ritual that wants to kill me thing.

Unlike the battle-scarred corridor, this space feels like a sanctuary. There is a musk, subtle in the air, of decaying parchment. Shelves extend from the floor to the high ceiling, filled with leather-bound volumes. I would say there are too many to read in a lifetime, but then Costin is immortal, so that’s not true.

Astrid waits for us at a wide oak table, perched on a chair, reading the tome open before her. If she battled werewolves while keeping the book safe, there are no signs of it. Magic weaves around her fingers as she turns a delicate page without actually touching it.

“So many pieces…” she muses, not looking up. “They must have been planning this for decades.”

Her voice is so calm. If I didn’t know her, I wouldn’t know if she was angry or impressed.

I come closer to see for myself. It’s not surprising that I can’t read the ancient text. That’s one of many regrets I have from my childhood. I wish they would have taught me more about magic and the old languages. Being mortal, my education was focused more on protecting myself, not wielding or understanding true power.

Astrid’s finger hovers over lines and Ifollow even though I can’t read. “They would’ve been waiting for the right combination of sacrifices.”

My eyes find words I do recognize, “Sanguis et Lunaria.”

Costin appears as silent as a shadow beside me. “I remember reading this centuries ago when the book first came into my possession, but I don’t recall the details.”

“The sheer complication of putting this together… It’s a wonder it could even come to pass,” Astrid says.

“The more complicated, the more dangerous. One thing I’ve learned is with time, any combination of things can happen,” Costin answers.

“What does it say?” I prompt so one of them will translate it for me.

“All right, let’s dig in. As we know from Peter, this ritual requires three specific types of power.” She turns a page so we can see the intricate drawings of an altar. It is the same one Thane showed me in his sanctuary. The words “Sanguis et Lunaria” are drawn across the illustration.

The amulet burns against my chest. Draakmar’s consciousness presses harder. He doesn’t like this.

“Death magic to anchor it, draconic magic to amplify it, and forgotten magic to channel it,” she continues. “Paul’s death in the erased timeline marked him with death magic that acted as theanchor to this could start. You have Draakmar’s power amplified through the amulet. Dragon magic is ancient, some of the most ancient, born before time was time.”

“We already guessed this much,” I say slowly. “Why Diana? Surely, there is someone else who forgot magic. Think of all the people walking around with erased memories. Not to be callous, but they’re a dime a dozen. Why hurt Diana? She’s just a kid.”

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