Elara's POV
"They're here to finish what they started." Caspian presses the black dagger into my hand. "Hide. Now."
"I'm not hiding while—"
The front door explodes inward.
Wood and stone spray everywhere. I throw myself over Nessa's body as debris rains down. When I look up, three figures stand in the smoking doorway.
All wearing dark cloaks. All radiating magic that makes my skin crawl.
The leader steps forward, pulling back his hood.
My heart stops.
"Hello, Elara." Davrien smiles like we're meeting for tea. "You've led us on quite the chase."
I can't breathe. Can't think. My ex-fiancé—the man who destroyed me—is standing in the Death Keeper's fortress.
"You." The word comes out like poison. "You cursed her."
"Guilty." He spreads his hands with mock innocence. "Though I prefer to think of it as... motivation. You were always so stubborn, my dear. You needed the right incentive to come back to me."
Rage explodes in my chest. "You tried to murder my sister to manipulate me?"
"Murder? No, no." He walks closer, boots crunching on broken stone. "I was going to save her. Be your hero. Make you grateful enough to forgive our little misunderstanding at the trial." His smile fades. "But then you had to run to him."
He looks at Caspian with pure hatred.
"Death Keeper." Davrien spits the title like a curse. "The Church has wanted you dead for years. Imagine my joy when I realized I could kill you and reclaim my wayward fiancée in one night."
"She's not your anything," Caspian says quietly. But I see his hand move to another weapon—a staff carved with glowing symbols. "Leave. Now. Before I make you leave."
Davrien laughs. "You're outnumbered. Outmatched. And weakened from saving the girl." He gestures to the blood still drying under Caspian's nose. "I brought two Battle Mages and enough curse magic to level this fortress. You're already dead. You just don't know it yet."
"Try me."
The air crackles with tension.
Then everything happens at once.
Davrien's mages attack. Fire and shadow explode toward us. Caspian slams his staff into the ground and a wall of silver light erupts, blocking the assault.
"Get her to the back room!" Caspian shouts at me. "Through that door! Don't come out no matter what you hear!"
"I can help—"
"NOW!"
I grab Nessa and run. Behind me, the battle erupts in full—magic screaming, things exploding, Caspian's voice chanting words in a language that makes the air itself shudder.
I crash through the door into a small room. More books. A bed. A window showing nothing but snow and darkness.
I lay Nessa on the bed and turn back to the door. Should I lock it? Should I—
A hand grabs my throat from behind.
I try to scream, but the grip tightens, cutting off air. I'm lifted off my feet, choking, clawing at fingers like iron.
"Foolish girl." Davrien's voice breathes against my ear. "Did you think I'd let you escape that easily?"
He spins me around. His face is twisted with rage and something worse—obsession.
"You were mine," he hisses. "My perfect, brilliant healer. My trophy. And you threw it away for what? A cursed sister? A monster necromancer?"
I stab upward with the dagger Caspian gave me.
Davrien catches my wrist easily, twisting until I drop the weapon. Pain shoots up my arm.
"I don't want to hurt you, Elara. I want to save you." His grip loosens slightly on my throat. "Come back with me. Testify that the Death Keeper kidnapped you and cursed your sister. Help me destroy him. And I'll break Nessa's curse myself. We can have everything we planned. Everything we were supposed to be."
"Never." I wheeze the word through my crushed throat. "I'd rather die."
His eyes go cold. "That can be arranged."
He throws me across the room. I slam into the wall, stars exploding in my vision. Before I can move, he's on top of me, his hand pulling out a vial of black liquid.
"Curse poison," he explains almost gently. "Same thing killing your sister. One drop and you'll be just as helpless. Just as dependent on me to save you." He uncorks the vial. "You'll beg me for the cure. Beg me to forgive you. And this time, you'll mean it."
The vial tilts toward my face.
A silver blade erupts through Davrien's chest.
He gasps, blood bubbling from his lips. The vial falls, shattering on the floor.
Behind him, Caspian stands holding his staff—now transformed into a deadly spear of pure death magic.
"She said never." Caspian's voice is ice and fury. "Learn to listen."
He rips the weapon free. Davrien collapses, clutching his chest, blood pooling around him.
Caspian kneels beside me immediately. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. Nessa—"
"She's safe. The mages are dealt with." He helps me stand, his hands gentle despite the violence they just committed. "Can you walk?"
I nod, though my legs shake.
We return to the main room. The two Battle Mages lie unconscious, wrapped in chains of silver light. The fortress is damaged but standing.
"Is he dead?" I ask, looking back at the room where Davrien fell.
"No. Wounded badly, but alive." Caspian's jaw tightens. "I don't kill unless I have no choice. He'll survive long enough to answer questions."
"Questions about what?"
"About who else is involved in this." He moves to check Nessa's pulse, satisfied she slept through everything. "A commander doesn't learn Death Weaver curses alone. Someone taught him. Someone powerful."
Ice floods my veins. "You think there's someone else?"
"I know there is." He turns to face me fully. "Death Weaver curses are ancient magic. Forbidden. The knowledge was destroyed centuries ago. The only place those spells still exist is—"
A slow clap echoes from the broken doorway.
We both spin around.
An elderly woman stands there, wrapped in fine robes marked with the symbol of the Royal Sanctum. Her smile is warm and grandmotherly.
My blood turns to ice.
"High Priestess Vex," I breathe.
"Hello, dear Elara." The woman who presided over my trial steps into the fortress. "I'm so glad I found you. When Commander Castor failed to return you to the capital, I knew I had to intervene personally."
"You taught him the curse," Caspian says flatly. "You gave him the spell to use on Nessa."
"Guilty." She shrugs, completely unconcerned. "Though Davrien was supposed to simply control the girl, not botch the execution so badly that she nearly died. Incompetent man."
"Why?" My voice shakes with rage. "Why curse my sister? Why destroy me?"
"Because you were getting too powerful, child." Vex moves closer, her smile never fading. "Too skilled. Too beloved. The Sanctum needs healers who follow orders, not brilliant upstarts who question ancient laws and study forbidden texts." Her eyes glitter. "You had to be broken. Discredited. Made into a cautionary tale."
"You ruined my life over politics?"
"Over control." She waves her hand dismissively. "But don't worry. This ends tonight. I'll kill the Death Keeper, take you and your sister back to the capital, and you'll confess that dark magic corrupted you. After proper rehabilitation, you might even be allowed to practice again. Under strict supervision, of course."
Caspian steps between us. "You're not taking anyone."
"Oh, child." Vex laughs. "You're already dead. You just don't know it yet."
She raises both hands, and the air fills with death magic—not silver like Caspian's, but black and rotting and wrong.
"That's impossible," Caspian breathes. "You're not a necromancer. You can't—"
"Can't I?" Her eyes glow red. "I've been collecting forbidden knowledge for forty years. Absorbing power from sources your innocent mind couldn't imagine. I am what happens when someone masters both life and death without moral weakness holding them back."
The black magic swirls around her like living smoke.
"Now," she says sweetly. "Who wants to die first?"