No! Anything but this! Anguished disappointment curdled within Caleb as he woke, laying under that blasted winking dome. A prison of his own making. He was a fool for not destroying the summoning spell. Sinking dread erupted into choking panic as the realization dawned on him.
The demons summoned Styx.
A heartbeat later, directly above him, a portal opened. The swirling colors only spelled disaster and torment because he knew what would happen. Once again, they would force Styx into this trap. She’d suffer anew because of his selfishness.
“Fuck! I should have destroyed that paper,” he screamed.
Disappointment, hot and sharp, spread through his chest. Hopelessness, pungent and strong, gripped his heart. Fear, raw and poisonous, surged within him. But he was powerless to stop the oncoming storm.
Then Styx emerged, divine form hurtling ruthlessly through the void before Caleb caught her, mere heartbeats from the unforgiving stone. Precious seconds elapsed before she turned her beautiful eyes to him. He anticipated seeing rage and vengeance in them. Instead, they only held a trace of fear.
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“Styx, I’m so sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t pull away, only pushed deeper into him. “Don’t. You aren’t to blame for this.”
“But I am.” His voice cracked. “I should have destroyed that paper. Given it to Rowan. Anything but keeping it. Anything but this.”
Styx reached up and cupped his cheek. Their eyes locked, and he wished to every deity ever named that he could tell her how sorry he was. He couldn’t voice those words, nor could he truly express his feelings.
“I’ve failed you,” he whispered, and with each syllable, his heart broke more.
“No.” She held his gaze. “You’ll only fail if you give up.”
A smile cracked his lips. “I’ll never give up protecting you. Even being a mortal with no magic. I’d sacrifice anything and everything.”
“Then we’ll never fail. Now, let’s figure out a way to stop these damn villains.”
He bobbed his head once. “Just don’t touch the barrier again.”
“That wasn’t on my battle plan.”
Caleb helped her sit up. Already lines of pain were forming around her tense jaw. Flashes of a headache sprouted in his mind, a sign that she was suffering.
“They can’t hear us,” Caleb reminded her. “So we can talk.”
Styx nodded. They both leaned forward, examining the demons. They were wandering through his basement uninhibited, picking things up, moving things, examining items. With each casual movement, Caleb wanted to shout and throw something.
This was his sanctuary, and they had no right to treat it so casually. When Lilith dropped a vial of rare moon princess tears, he clenched his teeth. He promised himself that he’d make sure that demon got her due. Perhaps he’d spray some instant ugly on her face. Make her even more repulsive.
“What are they doing?” Styx asked.
“Messing things up.”
She snorted. “Sounds about right. Damn demons. Do you know what they’re planning?”
“No, Nyxen or Asher said nothing to me.”
“Then we have to assume the worst case.”
Caleb gulped. Tingles of anxiety wove across his back and clenched his spine. “What are you thinking?”
“Me,” she said, her voice resigned. “No offense. You’re rather pathetic. But…”
“You’re a super-duper powerful being, crafted from pure Creator magic.”
“Exactly.”
Before he could speak again, the demons all gathered close. Ghastly faces pressed against the witching barrier. Flickers of color morphed their features, making them more grotesque. One reached out, a hand smearing bloody streaks on the trembling magic. The lines of red sizzled and sparked, sending bolts of white light dancing across the dome.
In his arms, Styx trembled, and he held her tighter. Small beads of sweat were forming across her forehead. The thumps of pain deep in his skull were thudding relentlessly, echoing, and rippling without mercy.
The demons spoke among themselves, their voices more reflections than substance. He tried to relax his grip. It wouldn’t do to squeeze Styx to death.
“Remind me to…”
But as Styx’s stricken face faded, a jagged, frozen wasteland replaced it, her voice became lost and his vision to swim. Somehow, he knew this place—a lightless abyss where the damned wandered eternally, every flicker of hope, each whispered dream of salvation crushed beneath infinite ice.
No solace existed here, but eternal anguish. The fleeting scraps of pleasure should be impossible, their corruption unthinkable. Yet the frigid air held an incongruous tinge of sweetness, hints of cheerful notes teasing his senses instead of iron despair.
With growing unease, Caleb noted slender shoots of emerald moss curling over ragged obsidian. No earthly plant should flourish amid these deathless shadows. Even more unsettling were the faint echoes of laughter, distant yet impossible to ignore.
Wrong! His thoughts roared. This creeping infiltration of light obscenely eroding Hell’s endless dark was an affront to the cosmic order itself. Unease slithered through Caleb like a chill wind; even long-held certainties now seemed threatened by this unnatural decay undermining the impervious gloom blanketing the damned.
A burst of pain jolted him from the vision, and he looked around in confusion.
“Where did you go?” Styx asked, her hand gripping his arm.
“I don’t know, but it was icky.” He shivered, the unease rippling through his body.
“My head hurts.”
“I know, and I wish I could stop it.”
He tasted bitterness on his tongue. The acrid tang of being utterly useless while Styx endured unseen torments. Not only had he doomed Styx to this fate, but he was powerless to save her. If she died…
Nausea crept through his gut, icy tendrils of anguish clenching deep. The thought of cradling her extinguished form—obsidian eyes glazed and lifeless—shredded his soul. It would snap his sanity like a rotten beam.
Because even as Death, she was his light. The smile on her tantalizing lips. The curve of her shoulder. The ring of her laugh.
Without her wry humor, her brave compassion, he would plunge into fathomless darkness, a muted world leached of warmth. Only embers would remain where once her spirit burned incandescent.
He would drift, a hollow ruin, haunted by her last struggling breaths. Neither success nor joy could ever stir him from that pit of despair. Not even death could offer escape. No relief awaited in eternity from the memory of her slack and empty face. A shade condemned to roam realms growing inexorably colder and darker without Death to guide tired souls’ home…
“Caleb.”
Her voice silenced the cascade of dark thoughts. Unable to stop himself, he beamed.
“You called my Caleb.”
She gave him a soft pinch. “Don’t read into it, Cal.”
Now wasn’t the time to kiss her, but god damn he wanted to. Unable to experience that, he shifted her weight, so she pressed even tighter against him. Then he swore that she’d never feel this kind of pain again. It didn’t matter what he had to sacrifice.
Before he told her, a resonant thud spread through the dome. Styx flinched at the sound, and he looked up with hate in his eyes. Nyxen was leaning close. A cruel smile stretched across his lips.
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“Look at the lovebirds,” he said.
“You know, nasty demons always get their comeuppance,” Caleb said.
“Remember, he can’t hear you.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“But I can hear you,” Nyxen replied, that annoying smile still on his lips. “Demons operate by a different type of magic, remember? This is a pathetic Creator spell, and therefore far below us.”
“Doesn’t matter, now I can insult you freely,” Caleb said, puffing out his chest. “Douche bag mother farm fucker.”
Styx giggled before coughing. “Farm fucker. That’s great.”
Nyxen shrugged. “Branches and rocks.”
“Uh, it’s sticks and stones,” Draven corrected him.
Nyxen shot the lesser demon a death glare so chilling that it even made Caleb shiver.
“Should we get on with everything?” Nyxen asked, glancing at them.
“Sure,” Caleb said. “Because the sooner we start, the sooner we can kick your ass.”
“No one messes with Cal and gets away with it,” Styx said.
“And here I was being so excited she called me Caleb,” Caleb sighed.
“I doubt you’ll escape this,” Nyxen smashed a fist down on the dome.
Magic sparked and fizzled. The vibrations rippled downward and seemed to shake the very foundations of everything. Caleb held onto Styx as she whimpered and groaned.
This loathsome leader was grating on Caleb’s last nerve. So he composed a mental checklist of exotic torments to one day repay the overbearing demon. Powdered unicorn horn would corrode that smug façade. Mandrake root stuffed into the walls would ensure shrill screams punctuated every attempted rest.
That would teach him!
Caleb shoved a finger toward Nyxen. “Let’s take a step outside. I’ll show you how strong humans really are.”
“You have to admit,” Draven said. “This mortal sure has some big round hairy cojones.”
Lilith giggled and fanned her face. “I bet he’s an excellent lover. Look how attentive he is.”
“Can we focus?” Asher snapped. “You seem to forget that Death has companions, and they won’t hold off long.”
Caleb almost smacked himself. He’d forgotten all about the other horsewomen. They’d be searching for Styx. Hope blossomed in his chest. All they needed to do was delay them.
“Except, Asher,” Nyxen said. “Remember the wards we placed? That will block any magical signal from Death or the human. The others will need a considerable amount of time to locate them.”
And the hope was gone. Caleb wanted to cry. Because if there was interference, the others couldn’t find them.
“They’ll discover us eventually,” Styx said. “Rowan is powerful.”
“That puny druid?” Asher snapped. “Doubtful. She has not yet fully accepted her limitations. Therefore, she’s inadequate…”
Nyxen held up his hand and Asher was silent. “But you have a point. The wards won’t last forever. Let’s get to the main event.”
“Oh, goody!” Lilith clapped. “I can’t wait to see her reaction when we tell them.”
Nyxen leaned closer to the barrier, and somehow the swirling seemed to calm. His face was nearly perfect, the ripples of color blurred and bent around him. Making it seem as if he was pure and untainted.
Caleb clenched his fist, rage blinding rational thought. The desire to smash this smug bastard’s sneer into scarlet ruin consumed him. Only the consequences for Styx stayed his hand rather than pummeling Nyxen into a wheezing, flailing wreck. The demon prince deserved nothing less for his vile hubris.
“I doubt you’ve been able to guess what we’re up to,” he said, looking at Styx. “Because you’re rather limited in your thinking and capabilities.”
“Just because we lack your depravity,” spat Styx.
“No, because you have no idea what real magic is capable of.” Nyxen let a few drops of something splatter against the dome.
The magic reacted instantly and violently. The corrupted power sizzled the instant it struck. Forked veins of cobalt and vermilion spread across the dome’s shimmering surface. An acrid stench like scorched metal overwhelmed the enclosed space.
Without warning, coruscating energy detonated outwards. Savage arcs of energy lashed Caleb and Styx’s helpless forms. They scarcely had time to cry out before being slammed into merciless stone, eyes seared by violent flashes brighter than a lightning strike.
The magical bombardment continued. Razor shards of light peeling skin from flesh while aggressive threnodies of power pummeled their organs. Blood vessels burst and nerves caught fire as the environment itself turned traitor. Molten agony flowed through every cell, seeking total dominion.
Just when the sensations threatened to short-circuit into shock, the assault paused…only to rip through them with redoubled fury. The tortured air grew talons, shredding robes, and memories alike. What remained became lost somewhere between subatomic particles torn asunder and the primordial chaos preceding existence.
Caleb’s being unraveled faster, with each rift torn in their plane of reality. But before conscious thought could fully give way, everything ceased, leaving only echoes of half-remembered suffering lingering behind Styx’s bloodied face.
He could feel a trickle of something hot drip from his nose. With a swift motion, he wiped away the blood, his eyes locked in a fierce glare at the menacing demon.
“See?” Nyxen’s voice sliced through the overwhelming feelings.
Caleb held Styx tighter as he struggled to calm his ragged breathing. In his arms, Styx moaned and clutched herself. It was almost like he could see her very form rippling and bending.
“Now that I have your attention, listen up. I’m sure you’ve noticed that we’ve been collecting specific types of magic.”
Styx gasped. It had never occurred to him it was magic they were after.
“But that’s not possible,” Styx said, her voice still quivering with pain. “It’s not possible to collect magic.”
“That will be your little secret,” Lilith said with a smirk.
“We’ve been draining and harvesting the magical essences of the various creatures found in his disgusting place,” Nyxen continued. “But we’ve run into a bit of a pickle.”
“Stupid limitation, really.” Draven picked at his nails.
“We needed something stronger. Something more potent, and you two gave us the perfect thing.” Nyxen smiled once again.
Caleb really REALLY wanted to punch his face now.
“The soul bond.”
Styx gasped and flinched in his arms. Caleb couldn’t believe it.
“What are you talking about?” Styx asked.
“See,” Nyxen said. “The soul bond is a very rare and powerful magic in these realms. Its foundations are even stronger than the power we possess. It’s a key component in what we’re seeking to do here.”
“Which is?” Caleb asked.
“None of your business,” Draven responded.
Nyxen didn’t hesitate before continuing. “It’s strong enough that when the human accidentally summoned Death, it sent ripples across the entire world.”
“We were lucky that we were in…”
Nyxen cut Lilith off with a single look. The demon spluttered and flushed before turning away, and Nyxen continued.
“Once those indications spread, we knew our plan would succeed. When we harvest the soul bond from you two, we’ll have a critical component. All thanks to the bond that united the two of you. So, I guess we should thank you.”
“It was perfect timing,” Asher said. “We had reached an apex in our work here, and this magic will be the key to realizing our plans.”
“I’m rather hoping that the other horsewomen will be similarly afflicted.” Nyxen grinned. “Harvesting multiple soul bonds will allow us to accelerate our plans.”
“That will never happen,” Styx said, her body tensing. “Even if you end me, the others will not go easily. Besides, there is no guarantee that they’ll have soul bonds.”
Nyxen shrugged. “You might be right, but even with just your soul bond, improvements will happen.”
“You won’t get away with this,” Caleb hissed.
“Why does everyone say that?” Draven moaned. “It’s so cliché. Come on! We’ve already gotten away with it. Do you see any opposition? No? Neither do I.”
“Even if you slice the bond, and end us, there are three other horsewomen, and a host of other powerful magical entities to stop you,” Styx said.
“Yes, and I’m sure they’ll provide some small measure of entertainment,” Nyxen said. “But as proved by every other encounter, demon magic is vastly stronger than Creator magic. So we’ll win. When we’re standing over your corpses, there will be no one left to oppose us.”
“Maybe we’ll throw a party.” Lilith and Draven leaned together and laughed.
“Are you ready to experience what a dissolving soul bond feels like?” Nyxen asked.
“If you hurt her,” Caleb growled. “I’ll go to the ends of the earth to end you in the most painful way possible.”
“That’s so cute,” Lilith cooed.
The fiends arranged themselves around the dome at equal intervals. Styx looked to Caleb, who racked his mind for words of solace that could ease her tense dread. But he couldn’t think of anything to say.
As the arcane chanting swelled, icy certainty gripped his heart. The chance to spare her this fate had slipped beyond reach. Now only his inadequate mortal form stood between Styx and oblivion.
Their gaze locked in wordless despair as the occult rhythm built. With each verse, the encircling demons drew blood from their flesh, dripping crimson ribbons upon the barrier.
The markings flared menacing red, heartbeat pulsing in sinister sympathy with the dread churning within Caleb. Invisible claws grasped his soul, stretched taut enough that sanity itself threatened to snap.
Bursts of pure magic exploded, golden lightning seeking any outlet against the confines of the ritual. The very fabric of reality protested, warping and bending without mercy.
“Caleb,” her voice was thin and weak.
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He understood her intent when twin streams erupted from behind their left ribs at that moment.
A molten crystalline platinum seeped from him. Styx’s color was dark, yet it possessed a captivating opalescent sheen.
The two flows of energy thrashed as if trying to retreat from each other, then flashed a fierce silver where they met before settling into muted gray tendrils leeching into the demons’ rune-work.
Heavy sobs sprouted from him, everything was stinging violent and tainted ruin. But Styx’s ridged form dwarfed his anguish.
Her fathomless eyes glazed over, and her body wracked by death throes. That’s when he knew Styx was being unmade. The radiant tapestry of her immortal spirit was shredding strand by strand.
Caleb strained against the magic leashing him, raging to save what fragments remained of her unraveled essence. But the ritual continued until a shattered gasp tore from Death’s bloodless lips.
Darkness engulfed Caleb’s mind as the ritual crescendoed, a savage cacophony drowning out Styx’s anguished cries. He clung tighter, but some malevolent force pried back his fingers.
The inked runes flared angry fissures across reality, bathing the dome interior in malevolent hues. Then Caleb’s sight wavered, phantom images congealing around Styx’s form. His breath caught at half-formed glimpses of her fierce grace rendered fragile, mocking echoes of her immortal strength fading faster than mist under sunlight.
Horror flooded Caleb’s mind as the scene solidified. Styx sprawled limp across the unforgiving stone, ichor pouring from too-still limbs. Her eyes were dull and distant, reflecting emptiness instead of their usual defiant gleam.
With brutal ferocity, the vision clarified further. The metallic tang of blood was thick in Caleb’s mouth, though no wounds marked his heaving body. He could only clutch tighter at his dying beloved, screams tearing his throat raw while rivers of anguish carved canyons through his heart.
Just when Caleb thought his fragmenting sanity must join Styx in death’s embrace, a last surge of power slammed through them, made merciless by the vivid agony of loss. Then the vision collapsed, returning them gasping to the demons’ clutches. Grief’s claws left ragged furrows no magic could mend…for Caleb glimpsed eternity sundered in those lifeless immortal eyes.
No. No. NO! He’d fight to save her. To prevent this. No matter what it cost him.
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