Sera's POV
I ran through the empty streets, my mother's journal clutched against my chest like a shield.
The guards would discover my escape any minute. I had to get home, do the ritual, and disappear before they found me again. My lungs screamed for air, but I didn't slow down.
Two days and nights left until Finn's execution. Two days to make this work.
I burst through my shop door and slammed it behind me, shoving a chair under the handle. My hands shook so badly I could barely turn the pages of the journal.
Page forty-seven. Page forty-seven.
There.
The Exchange of Fates
My mother's handwriting filled the margins with notes and warnings. I read fast, my heart sinking with every word.
This ritual swaps destinies between two people—one condemned to die, one willing to take their place. It requires the blood of both, spoken words of binding, and perfect timing under the new moon.
I checked the calendar on the wall. Tonight. The new moon was tonight.
Perfect timing or terrible luck—I couldn't decide which.
I kept reading.
WARNING: Blood magic is forbidden for good reason. It is unpredictable. It is dangerous. It can twist in ways you cannot control. The price may be higher than you expect.
My mother had underlined that last part three times.
I do not recommend this ritual. But if you have no other choice, if death is certain and you're willing to risk everything, then follow these steps exactly. Do NOT deviate. Do NOT rush. One mistake could be fatal.
My throat tightened. Even from beyond the grave, my mother was trying to protect me.
I'm sorry, Mama. But Finn is going to die if I don't do something.
I gathered what I needed: white candles from my supplies, a silver knife I used for cutting herbs, a small bowl. The last item made my chest ache—Finn's baby blanket, still tucked in the trunk under my bed where I'd kept it all these years.
I spread the blanket on the floor and arranged the candles in a circle, just like the journal instructed. My hands were steadier now. I had a purpose. A plan.
But I needed Finn's blood, and he was locked in the Citadel dungeons.
Unless...
I grabbed a clean cloth and ran back outside, staying in the shadows. I had to get to the market square where they'd arrested him. Maybe—just maybe—there'd still be blood on the ground from where the guards had hit him.
The square was empty now, everyone scared to stay out after dark. I dropped to my knees where Finn had been chained, searching the stones by moonlight.
There. A dark stain.
I pressed the cloth against it, soaking up what little remained. It wasn't much, but it would have to be enough.
"Please work," I whispered. "Please, please work."
I ran back home, my breath coming in gasps. Inside, I locked the door again and went down to the basement—the one place no one could see candlelight from the street.
I arranged everything exactly like the journal showed. Candles in a perfect circle. Finn's blanket in the center. The bowl with his blood-soaked cloth.
Then I read the incantation, practicing the words until I had them memorized. They were in an old language my mother had taught me as a child—the language of blood magic, spoken before the empire banned it.
The sun was setting. I had maybe an hour until full dark, until the new moon's power was strongest.
I sat in the circle and waited, reading my mother's warnings over and over.
The ritual connects destinies. It creates a bond. Be certain this is what you want, because once begun, it cannot be stopped.
If something goes wrong, if the magic splits or twists, the consequences are unknown. You may save the person you love, or you may doom you both.
I closed the journal. My decision was made.
I'd rather die trying to save Finn than live knowing I did nothing.
The last light faded from the sky. Darkness filled the basement. The new moon had risen—invisible, but I felt its pull like a hand on my heart.
It was time.
I lit the candles one by one. Their flames cast dancing shadows on the walls. I placed the bowl in the center of the circle and squeezed Finn's blood-cloth into it, watching the drops fall.
Then I picked up the silver knife.
My hand only shook a little as I pressed the blade to my palm. The pain was sharp and clean. Blood welled up, bright red in the candlelight. I made a fist over the bowl, letting it drip onto Finn's blood.
Our blood mixed together, brother and sister, family and fate.
I began the incantation.
The words felt heavy on my tongue, each syllable thick with power. The candles flickered even though there was no wind. The air grew cold.
"I offer my life for his. I offer my fate for his. I offer my blood to break his chains."
The candles flared brighter.
"Take me instead. Trade our destinies. Let him live and I will pay the price."
The bowl began to glow with a soft red light. It was working. The magic was activating.
My heart raced. Just a little more. Just finish the ritual and Finn would be free.
"By blood we are bound. By blood we are—"
Something went wrong.
The red light in the bowl suddenly split, shooting out in two different directions. One beam stayed connected to me, wrapping around my chest like burning rope. But the other—
The other shot up through the ceiling, through the shop, through the whole city, racing toward something I couldn't see.
Pain exploded through my body.
It felt like my heart was being torn in half. Like my soul was being stretched between two points, ripping down the middle. I screamed, but no sound came out.
The magic twisted, writhing like a living thing. It wasn't doing what the journal said. It wasn't swapping our fates.
It was connecting me to something else. Someone else.
A face flashed in my mind—gray eyes, dark hair, a man I'd never seen before. His shock mirrored mine. He felt this too, wherever he was.
Who—?
The pain became too much. My vision went dark around the edges. The candles exploded, plunging the basement into darkness.
I collapsed onto the cold floor, blood still dripping from my palm.
The last thing I saw before I passed out was my hand.
A black mark had appeared on my palm, burning itself into my skin. It looked like a chain wrapped in thorns, the links forming a circle that pulsed with dark magic.
And somewhere in the city, I knew—I felt it in my bones—the same mark was appearing on someone else's hand.
Someone I'd just bound myself to.
Someone who wasn't my brother.
The ritual hadn't saved Finn.
It had trapped me in something far worse.