Soren staggered back a step and sank to his knees. Annabel caught him as he fell and eased him the rest of the way to the floor as blood bloomed across the front of his shirt.

A scream tore itself from my throat, and I fought violently against the grasp of the men holding my arms, but they were too strong.

Uncle Theo started towards me, horror written plain in his face, but Nisha flicked her head towards him, and two other cultists moved to intercept. One struck him hard below the ribs, and he went down with a grunt of pain.

I made another attempt to struggle free, Soren's name on my lips. The men holding me merely tightened their grip.

"Hold him there," Nisha commanded, pointing. "Over the bones." The men hauled me around so I was facing the other way. They forced me to kneel and pushed me forward so I leaned over the piled remains. One gripped my hair and pulled my head back, exposing my throat.

Nisha circled to face me. She passed the gun off to another of the Cavas and took a long, sheathed knife in exchange. She drew it to expose a cruel, thin blade of black steel.

This was it. She was going to kill me, over the bones of my mother and father, while my beloved lay dying in someone else's arms. Sobs wracked my body, and iron bands of grief tightened around my heart.

"That's it," Nisha crooned, stroking my face with the back of her hand. "All is lost. Now is the time to despair. Give up, and let me take your life."

She spread her arms wide and began to chant in a low, commanding voice. In my blood and bones and breath, I felt the magic begin to stir in response, and the seal to awaken.

I felt immeasurably tired. I wanted to sleep and never wake. I wanted to lie in the arms of my love for eternity. I wanted to go home.

Home.

A tiny whisper stirred in my mind, and I realized the voice belonged to the Breath. The living magic was waking up, sensing the nearness of its own realm.

I'm sorry, I told it in my mind. She's taking more of you, not setting you free.

No.

A rage and pain that was not my own flooded me.

Use me, it whispered. Let me go.

Nisha's chanting reached a crescendo, and she stepped closer, readying the blade.

How? I asked.

The Breath answered, Life, death, and love.

The symbols on my palms and above my heart burned, and I understood.

I closed my eyes and let myself fall away, my own will dissolving into that of the Breath. I felt its surge of exultation, and power rushed through me like a hurricane wind. The men on either side of me screamed as the symbols on my hands blazed with unearthly fire. The Breath sensed the life within them, grasped it, and drank it down. Their screams cut short.

Nisha stepped back with a startled cry.

The power that filled me was more than I could contain, but I didn't want to contain it. I set my palms over the painted symbols on the floor and released it all. Blue fire raced along the intricate designs, until it lit the entire seal, and with a resounding crack, a seam of blinding brilliance tore the air above its center. The gateway opened.

I rose to my feet. Nisha stared at me, eyes wide with shock. She looked around wildly to the rest of the cultists, who stood in similar states of uncertainty and surprise. "Don't just stand there!" she yelled. "Hold him!"

They hesitated, but a few started towards me.

I shrank back. I didn't want to hurt them. I didn't want to hurt anyone. But the Breath did, and if they got any closer I wouldn't have a choice.

Something soft brushed my cheek, and I looked down as a black feather landed at my feet. A second later, an inhuman roar ripped through the cavern, followed by shrieks of terror as the Cavas fled. I looked up in time to see a shadowy shape drop from the walkway above.

Volkir landed like a cat before straightening slowly to his full height. His eyes glowed red, and his canine teeth were long and sharp as viper's fangs. He was a thing of fury and darkness, and the Cavas scattered before him like frightened deer before the tiger's wrath.

I didn't watch, and turned my attention back to Nisha and the gateway.

She glared at me, hate in her eyes. "You fool," she snarled. "You can't win. Even if you stop me, you've lost everything. Your lover is dead, your uncle betrayed you, and the Breath will destroy your mind and soul. Just give up and die!"

She lunged, knife raised, but before she could reach me, Uncle Theo stepped between us. He staggered, and I saw the tip of the knife protruding from his back.

He turned. The knife was buried to the hilt below his ribs and his face was colorless, but he met my eyes with a steady gaze.

"Ari, I'm sorry," he gasped. "Believe it or not, I did love you." Then he grabbed Nisha around the waist, stumbled forward, and fell with her through the gateway before I could reply.

Her scream echoed in my ears long after the sound had ceased.

The gateway pulsed with a universe of potential energy, and the Breath within me vibrated in response. I looked into the brilliant void and felt its desire.

Home.

It wanted to go, but I needed to stay.

I want to release you, I thought, but I don't know how.

The answer was like a gentle caress.

Understanding came like light breaking through clouds. Life and death were constant, the one guaranteeing the other, as unbreakable eternal laws. But love was a gift, bound neither to life, nor death, nor time.

I focused on the love I felt for Soren, for my parents—even for Uncle Theo, despite everything—and let it flow from me unrestrained. The Breath went with it, leaving me like rapidly melting ice joining a stream.

It poured forth in twisting trails of blue fire, passing swiftly into the rift. As the last of it left me, I felt it give me something, some small gift I couldn't quite perceive. Then it was gone, and like an eye closing in sleep, the rift sealed itself shut.

The chaos in the cavern subsided. Volkir let the last of the Cavas fall in a lifeless heap from his grasp, and turned to me. His features had regained their more familiar appearance, though blood stained his mouth and hands. Al fluttered down and landed on his shoulder, looking pleased with himself.

Seeing me unharmed, Volkir turned and strode to where Soren lay. I followed at a run.

Annabel had taken off her sweater and pressed it to the wound, staunching the flow of blood, but Soren's face was pale and his eyes were closed. I dropped beside him and ran my hands over his face. His skin felt cold.

"Soren? Soren, please, open your eyes."

He stirred, and his eyelids flickered, then opened. His gaze was unfocused, but a pale smile touched his mouth when he saw me.

"My Ari," he whispered. "My love." He coughed and blood slicked his lips. "You're okay."

I grasped his hands in mine. "Yes—yes, I'm fine. And you will be too," I said, more pleading than certain. "You'll heal, and you'll be fine."

Sorrow shadowed his eyes. "Not from this," he said quietly.

Annabel touched my arm. "He's dying, Ari. Can you use the Breath?"

I shook my head, cursing myself. "No. It's gone. I let it go."

I looked up at Volkir, desperation tightening my voice. "You can turn him, can't you?" I begged. "Turn him, so he can heal."

But he shook his head. "The choice is his," he said. "To turn, or not. He has my blood already, as my son. To turn he needs the blood of another."

"Soren." I pressed his hands to my chest. "Please."

"I wouldn't be the same," he whispered. "And there'd be no going back."

"I don't care! I don't care what you are, as long as you're with me."

"Ari..."

"Please, I know the choice has to be yours, but I'm offering. My heart, my life, my blood. All of me. It's yours. Please take it."

Something shifted in his eyes. He pulled my hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to the underside of my wrist.

"My love," he breathed. "Forgive me."