Chapter 13 Kael pov
The world didn't go black. a heavy, suffocating limestone grey that pressed against my consciousness until I was nothing more than a spark of heat trapped in a cold, unyielding cage.
I could hear everything. That was the true cruelty of the petrification curse. It didn't put you to sleep; it turned your body into a prison while your mind remained wide awake, screaming at limbs that could no longer move and lungs that had turned to solid mineral.
I heard the frantic beat of Aria’s heart. I heard the sharp, authoritative snap of her voice as she commanded Pierce and Thierry. And then, I heard the most terrifying sound of all: the fading echo of her footsteps as she walked out of the library and into the night.
No, I roared internally, the sound echoing uselessly against the stone of my skull. Aria, come back. You’re a void. You’re unprotected. You’re walking straight into a slaughterhouse.
But the grey didn't care about my fury. It sat heavy on my chest, a physical weight that grew more oppressive with every passing second. The darkness began to seep in from the edges—not the darkness of sleep, but the darkness of a soul being squeezed out of its vessel.
"He’s getting colder," Pierce’s voice said, sounding like it was coming from the bottom of a deep well. "Thierry, his skin... it’s cracking."
"It’s the power draw," Thierry replied, his voice uncharacteristically grim. "The anchor in the tunnels isn't just turning him to stone; it’s using him as a battery. It’s pulling the very essence of his life out to fuel the spell. If Aria doesn't find the source soon, there won't be enough of him left to revive."
I felt the pull then. It was a rhythmic, agonizing tug at the center of my being. Every few seconds, a wave of cold would wash over me, and I could feel a piece of my history a memory of the rain in London, the taste of the first blood I ever drank, the sound of the wind in the Seattle harbor being pulled away and dissolved into the ether.
The killer was erasing me.
I tried to fight it. I reached for the ancient, primal power that had kept me alive for two centuries. I tried to flare my magic, to shatter the stone from the inside out. But the moment I touched my own power, the pulling sensation doubled in intensity. The curse was a parasite; it fed on the host’s resistance.
I stopped. I forced myself to be as still as the stone I had become.
If I can't fight the curse, I thought, I have to find Aria.
I couldn't move my body, but I was still a King, and the blood bond we had formed during the ceremony was a bridge that even a petrification curse couldn't fully sever. I focused all of my remaining essence on that thin, golden thread of connection. I reached out across the city, past the walls of the stronghold, searching for the heat of her soul.
I found her near the waterfront.
She was moving through the old steam tunnels, her presence a bright, defiant flicker in a sea of damp shadows. I could feel her fear, jagged but beneath it was a cold, hard layer of resolve that made me proud and terrified all at once. She was using the obsidian mirror as a compass, the green light guiding her deeper into the belly of the city.
Aria, I whispered through the bond, pouring every ounce of my love and desperation into the thought. Turn back. It’s a trap. He’s waiting for you.
I felt her skip a beat. She stopped for a second, her hand going to her throat where the bond thrummed against her skin. She looked around the dark tunnel, her eyes wide.
"Kael?" she whispered, her voice a tiny, fragile sound in the vastness of the underground.
She couldn't hear me clearly, but she felt the warning. For a moment, she hesitated. I could feel her thumbing the edge of the mirror, her mind flashing to the faces of the dead witches, then to my face on the library table.
"I'm not leaving you," she murmured into the dark.
She started moving again, faster this time.
As she approached the shipping district, the drain on my soul intensified. The "Young One"—the vessel—was close. I could feel his pain now, too. It was a high-pitched, electronic scream that vibrated through the bond. He was a vampire, one of mine, and he was being hollowed out just like I was.
Suddenly, the connection with Aria flared with a sudden, violent heat.
She’s there.
I felt the wards of the district wash over her. To anyone else, they would have been a wall of fire, but to Aria, they were nothing more than a light breeze. She stepped through the magical perimeter, a ghost in the machine.
But the moment she crossed the threshold, the shadow moved.
I felt the killer’s presence a cold, oily void that felt disturbingly familiar. It wasn't just a hybrid; it was a reflection. It was something born of the same ancient, forgotten magic that had created the obsidian mirror.
"Finally," a voice echoed through the tunnels, and because of the bond, I heard it as clearly as if I were standing beside her. "The girl with no magic. The only variable I couldn't predict."
Aria didn't scream. She didn't run. I felt her pulse steady into a rhythm of pure, concentrated focus.
"You're the one," she said, her voice echoing through the basement. "You're the one who's been killing them. Not for war, but for this. To turn a King into a monument."
"A monument is much easier to manage than a King," the shadow replied. "And you, Aria Marlowe... you are the perfect final ingredient. A void to hold all the power I've harvested. You aren't here to save him. You're here to replace him."
The grey in my chest surged. My vision—my connection to her—began to flicker like a dying candle. The stone was moving again. It was climbing past my jaw, sealing my mouth, moving toward my eyes.
Aria, run! I screamed one last time, the thought a blinding flare of white light in the dark.
The last thing I felt before the stone covered my eyes was the sensation of Aria lifting the obsidian mirror. I felt her draw in a breath—not a human breath, but a deep, spiritual vacuum. She wasn't just holding the mirror; she was opening herself up.
She was becoming the void.
And then, the stone claimed me completely. I was a statue, silent and cold, while my wife stood alone in the dark, facing a monster with nothing but a piece of glass and a heart full of shadows.