Chapter 83 Losing Her
LUCA
“Fine. But you stay behind me. And if I say run, you run.”
“Deal.”
We raced toward the Moonwell, Sage and Ryker flanking us. The temple grounds were chaotic. Fires burning, people screaming, warriors fighting. But our people were holding. The defectors who’d pledged loyalty were fighting alongside us, proving their commitment.
Maybe Arya’s faith in them hadn’t been misplaced.
The Moonwell chamber was at the heart of the temple, down a flight of ancient stairs. As we descended, I felt dark magic pulsing.
“He’s performing a ritual,” Arya breathed. “Using the Moonwell’s power for something.”
“What kind of ritual?”
“Nothing good.”
We burst into the chamber to find Theron Nightshade standing before the Moonwell, his hands glowing with dark magic. The hostages were bound in a circle around him, including Jaime, who looked like he’d been beaten badly.
“Ah, the happy couple,” Theron said without turning. “Right on time.”
“Let them go,” Arya demanded. “This is between you and me.”
“Is it?” Finally, he turned to face us. He was older than I expected, with silver hair and eyes that had seen too much. “I thought this was about ideology. About preserving the natural order. About preventing abominations.”
“The only abomination here is you,” I snarled.
“Perhaps. But I’m an abomination who’s about to win.” He gestured to the Moonwell. “Do you know what this is? True Moonborne power, concentrated in physical form. Powerful enough to cleanse corruption, yes. But also powerful enough to absolutely corrupt.”
“Don’t,” Arya whispered. “Whatever you’re planning—”
“I’m planning to show the world what happens when you mix bloodlines. When you corrupt pure species with mongrel mating.” His hands moved in complex patterns. “I’m going to use this power to trigger a transformation. Everyone with mixed blood—every hybrid, every half-breed, every abomination—will die. Simultaneously. Painfully. Publicly.”
“That’s genocide,” Arya said, horror in her voice.
“That’s purification.” Theron smiled. “And you, dear Moonborne, are going to power it. Your death will fuel the spell. Your mixed blood will be the catalyst. Poetic, don’t you think?”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m necessary.” He began chanting in an ancient language.
The Moonwell’s water started to darken, corruption seeping in. Just like before, but faster, more concentrated.
“Stop him!” Arya was already moving, power flooding through her.
But Theron was ready. A barrier of dark magic snapped into place, separating us from him.
“You’ll have to do better than that, little hybrid.”
Arya’s power slammed into the barrier. It held.
“Fuck,” Ryker cursed. “We need to break through. Now.”
“I can do it,” Arya said. “But I’ll need to channel everything. All my power. All of Luca’s through the bond.”
“That could kill you,” I protested.
“And not doing it will kill thousands.” She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “Please. Trust me.”
I did trust her.
That was the problem.
“Do it,” I said. “Take everything you need.”
She pressed her hands against the barrier, and I felt the pull through our bond. My power flowing into her, amplifying her own. It hurt—felt like my soul was being pulled through a too-small opening.
But I didn’t stop.
Gave her everything.
The barrier cracked.
“Impossible,” Theron breathed.
“Nothing’s impossible,” Arya said, her voice resonating with power. “Not when you fight for love instead of hate.”
The barrier shattered.
Arya lunged forward, tackling Theron away from the Moonwell. They both went down, magic exploding around them.
I started forward, but Sage grabbed my arm.
“Look!” She pointed to the hostages.
The bindings were breaking. Dark magic was seeping into them, corrupting them just like it had corrupted the Moonwell before.
“They’re being turned,” Ryker said in horror. “Into something. We need to free them before the transformation completes.”
I was torn—help Arya or save the hostages.
“Go,” Arya’s voice in my head through the bond. “Save them. I can handle this.”
‘You better. Because if you die, I’m following.’
‘I know. I love you too. Now GO.’
I moved to the hostages, Ryker and Sage joining me. The bindings were dark magic, resistant to normal methods.
“We’ll have to cut through them,” Sage said, pulling out a blessed silver blade.
“Do it.”
We worked quickly, severing the magical ties one by one. Some of the hostages were already transforming—skin darkening, eyes going black, movements becoming jerky and wrong.
Jaime was the worst. The corruption had gotten to him first, probably because he’d been positioned closest to Theron.
“Hang on,” I told him. Arya would be devastated if he died. I wouldn’t let that happen. “We’re getting you out.”
“Arya,” he gasped. “Protect Arya.”
“Always.”
Behind us, the fight between Arya and Theron intensified. Magic clashed, the sound deafening. I could feel Arya’s strain through the bond, feel her pushing herself beyond safe limits.
‘Hold on.’ I sent. ‘Just hold on a little longer.’
‘Trying. He’s stronger than I expected.’
‘Then fight dirty. You’re allowed.’
A flash of amusement through the bond, then she redoubled her efforts.
Finally, the last hostage was free. We started moving them toward the exit, but Jaime collapsed.
“Leave me,” he gasped. “It’s too deep. I can feel it changing me.”
“Shut up,” I said, hauling him up. “You’re not dying.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t. But she does. That’s enough.”
We got the hostages out, passed them to waiting healers. Then I turned back to the chamber.
Arya and Theron were locked in combat, both glowing with power. But Arya was winning. Slowly, painfully, she was overwhelming him.
“Impossible,” Theron kept saying. “You’re just a hybrid. Just a mongrel. You shouldn’t be this strong.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Arya said, her voice resonating with ancient power. “I’m not just a hybrid. I’m the perfect balance. The bridge you fear because it proves you wrong.”
She thrust her hand forward, and pure Moonborne magic—untainted, powerful, absolute—slammed into Theron.
He screamed.
The dark magic around him burned away, consumed by light. His body convulsed, and I saw genuine fear in his eyes for the first time.
“No,” he gasped. “No, this can’t—I am the future—I am—”
“You’re nothing,” Arya said quietly. “And you’re done.”
The light consumed him completely. When it faded, Theron Nightshade was gone. Nothing remained but ash.
Arya swayed, and I was there in an instant, catching her before she fell.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured. “I’ve got you.”
“Did we win?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“You won. You saved everyone.”
“Good. That’s… that’s good.”
Then her eyes rolled back, and she went limp in my arms.
“ARYA!” I clutched her to my chest. “No no no, stay with me. STAY WITH ME!”
I felt her consciousness fading. She’d pushed too hard, used too much power. She was dying.
“Somebody HELP!” I roared. “HEALERS! NOW!”
People rushed in, but they seemed to move in slow motion. Arya was dying in my arms, and I was powerless to stop it.
‘No,’ I thought desperately. ‘Not like this. Not when we’ve come this far.’
‘Please,’ I begged any deity listening. ‘Please don’t take her from me.’
I’ll give anything. Everything. Just don’t take her.
Her heartbeat was slowing.
I felt my sanity start to crack.