Aflora’s agonyshredded my heart into a thousand pieces. I hit her with another defensive spell, trying in vain to pull her from this magical coma.
She didn’t move. Didn’t respond. Barely breathed.
Zakkai had caught her when she fainted, the stonepecker disappearing into black mist. His familiar had howled and cowered in a corner, his tail firmly between his legs. He was still there now, shaking with fright as Zakkai ran a spell over him.
Kols and I had moved Aflora to the couch where Shade paced frantically back and forth. He kept fisting his hair and cursing himself for not seeing this sooner. “Your grandfather did this,” he said, looking at Kols. “He used to send me messages via Draco all the time, always in the form of dead crows. He thought it was symbolic.”
“Of Night,” Kols inferred darkly. “That piece of information would have been useful ten minutes ago.”
“He’s never used Zimney for that purpose before,” Zakkai interjected. “I should have sensed what was wrong. He tried to tell me by disobeying my word and looking to Aflora for direction. But I inferred incorrectly that he was deferring to her as the queen.” He ran his hand over his face, his frustration palpable. “That fucking grandfather of yours needs to die.”
“Indeed,” Kols agreed.
Aflora’s shriek inside my head sent me to my knees beside her, along with the others. “What is he doing?” I demanded, my chest aching as though I’d just finished an intense battle session with a fellow Warrior Blood.
I felt drained.
Ruined.
Exhausted.
“Is she pulling energy from us to survive?” I wondered out loud as I massaged my agonized ribs.
“It’s all the blood.” Zakkai’s voice was as strained as mine. “The source was preparing her… to hold it together.”
“What?” I didn’t understand what that meant.
“I can feel it fracturing. The trial Constantine has set is requiring too much. The Dark Source is in agony. That’s what we’re feeling —Aflora’s reaction to the source being split into pieces.”
“How is that even possible?” Kols demanded. “Constantine isn’t stronger than the source.”
“No. He’s just the acting conduit. And he’s commanding a hell of a lot of power right now—more than any monarch should. Which means all Midnight Fae can feel this right now. Just as they can sense Aflora’s anguish over having to keep it all together.”
“Do you think he realizes that?” Shade asked.
“I think he’s too arrogant to see beyond this trial,” Zakkai gritted out. “I’m trying to help her, but it’s too… too chaotic. And it’s draining too much.”
Kols collapsed against Aflora’s abdomen, his breath leaving on a wheeze. “It… it’s like…” A subtle hum came from his mind, causing Shade’s eyes to widen.
“Oh fuck,” the Death Blood whispered. “No.”
“Yes,” Kols hissed.
“What?” I demanded. “What is it like?”
“When I died,” Kols breathed, his forehead touching Aflora’s flat abdomen.
A burst of energy sent me forward, my hands roaming over her, checking her vitals and evaluating her still form. She felt okay, like she was sleeping.
Then Kols released a wheezing cough and my gaze went to Zakkai. “You said it’s like the source is breaking and protesting the trial. Because it doesn’t agree with the sacrifice?” It came out as a question, but as I voiced it, I could sense the answer. “She’s being forced to choose.” Something I vowed only this week would never happen. “Fuck.”
“She’s holding our life strands,” Shade said, his pupils flaring. “Just like I did with Kols.”
My Elite Blood mate nodded wobbly, his skin exceptionally pale. “Feels… like… that.”
“And Kols is slipping fastest because he’s the clear choice for death,” Zakkai said solemnly. “He cheated it once already. The source is demanding its due… by forcing Aflora’s choice. That’s why it’s breaking.”
“It feels the wrongness of the trial,” I realized in a breath. “We have to do something to help her. There has to be a way.”
But Zakkai’s expression said otherwise.
As did the grim line of Shade’s mouth. “There’s nothing we can do. This is her path to walk… and her path alone.”