Hades' POV
The moon has climbed too high to pretend this can still be stopped.
There is no other path left. Whatever hesitation still lingers has no place here, not tonight.
Cold stone presses into the soles of my feet as I step into the circle Malen has created, the carved markings catching the moon light. The air tastes metallic. Iron and ash.
They bring her out.
Saphyra.
Chains bite into her wrists as the gammas pull her toward the circle. Her steps are uneven, she stumbles, but doesn't fall. Her shoulders are stiff, jaw clenched hard enough that the muscle jumps beneath her cheek.
She keeps her eyes forward as she reaches the edge of the circle.
Her gaze catches mine and holds.
"Saphyra," I mutter.
My body answers before my thoughts can catch up.
My chest tightens before I have time to think, seized hard enough that my vision narrows.
"Hades." Malen's voice pulls me back in place. "You will go along with it. You wouldn't stop. For your survival."
I nod.
That's what the rite should be about.
It should be all about me.
But I don't like the chains on her.
Malen moves to the spot where he's placed the moonstone. His focus stays on the stone basin, the blade, the vials aligned with careful precision. He does not look at her, doesn't wonder why I say she's strangely familiar. He does not need to.
She's guided forward.
Hands at her arms. Controlled. Efficient. They do not hurt her beyond what is required, but restraint does nothing to soften the sight of her wrists straining against iron.
Her breath catches when she reaches the center.
I hear it.
Too clearly.
Each inhale is shallow, tight against her ribs. Each exhale slips free like she does not trust it to return.
I step closer.
The distance between us collapses too quickly. Every instinct sharpens, every sound grows louder, closer. My fangs ache, pressure building at my jaw.
She lifts her chin.
"If you're going to do it," she says, her voice almost inaudible but steady in a way that cuts deeper than screaming. "Don't make me watch your face."
I lean closer to look at her. Really look at her.
Fear is there. It shows in the tightness around her eyes, the tremor she fails to suppress when the drums deepen. But beneath it, there is defiance. Thin. Stubborn. Refusing to die.
The elders chant, some of them shifting into their wolf forms.
The curse answers instantly, heat surging harder, clawing up my spine, demanding completion. This is what it has been waiting for.
I raise my hand.
She flinches.
It is small. Reflexive. She stills herself immediately, forcing control back into her body. Her lips part as she drags in a breath that shakes despite her effort to steady it.
"Hades!" Malen calls loudly. "Now. Do it."
My fingers close around her wrist.
The impact is brutal.
Heat detonates up my arm. My breath leaves me in a harsh rush. My vision fractures, then snaps back into place.
She gasps.
Her knees buckle. I catch her without thinking. I feel the tremor running through her spine, the way her fingers curl into my side, not gripping, just holding on to stay upright.
My heart slams hard enough to hurt.
Fear has never slowed me.
Hers does something else.
She looks up at me.
Her eyes are wet, but she refuses to let the tears fall. Her jaw is tight, teeth pressed together as if holding back sound along with everything else.
"Don't," she whispers.
The word cuts straight to me.
The curse surges in protest, heat tearing through muscle and bone. My fangs descend, pressure building until my jaw aches.
I lower my face toward her throat.
Her eyes close.
Her pulse jumps beneath my lips. It beats straight into my jaw.
My mouth hovers there.
Close enough that her skin radiates warmth against my teeth.
One more inch and the choice is gone.
My breath catches.
Hers would end.
My hands shake.
I stop.
I pull back.
I can't do it.
Silence crashes down.
The elders' chanting dies mid-word. The drums cut off, the last vibration shuddering through the stone before vanishing.
Her eyes fly open.
"Hades… Hades?" She mutters between breaths.
Her gaze lifts from the floor to land on my fangs as they slowly turn into teeth, then drifts to her fingers as she clenches and opens them as if testing if she's still alive.
Sweat drips down her face as her breath slows down.
A half-like smile forms on her face, a flicker of hope?
It dies the same moment.
I step away from her.
The curse lashes out, furious, heat tearing through my veins in punishment. I brace myself, forcing my body to remain upright.
"Take her away," I say.
My voice is rough, stripped down to command.
No one moves.
I turn slowly, my gaze cutting across the ring of faces.
"Now."
Hands close around her arms again, dragging her back from the circle. She stumbles, nearly falling, chains rattling as she is pulled away.
She twists her head over her shoulder.
Our eyes lock.
There is no relief there.
Only shock. And a question she does not ask.
I do not look away.
She disappears into the shadows beyond the torchlight.
The circle re
mains open.
The moon hangs overhead, still full and merciless.
I stand alone in the unfinished circle, hands shaking, her absence louder than the drums ever were.