A cold sensation twisted around my gut. "What's wrong?"

"It's Nelle. She's not right. There's something wrong with her," Penn replied.

Fear was a stranglehold around my throat. "What do you mean?"

"She's ill...maybe... We don't know. It's unnatural whatever's ailing her. We can't get anyone in here, because you willed everyone out, and I can't get her out because you've got that damned rope around her neck."

Penn wasn't one for being pushy or rude, not because she was a member of our staff, but her instinctive nature was to be quiet, or maybe that wasn't right either, she'd been broken in her childhood to be that way—quiet, unassuming, fade into the background and to tiptoe around others.

It was telling how worried she was because she'd forgotten herself and verbally snapped at me.

"You don't stop for anyone or anything, Graysen. Get home now."

She ended the call, not me.

I stared at my phone blankly. Fear and terror and worry washed through me like a dirty wave, pushing me under and choking the air from my lungs. "I've got..."

"What? What's going on?" Mela asked, already worried.

"I've got to get home, now, fast."

Mela didn't ask, she acted, and I loved her for that. She scooped up my daypack, grabbed the keys to my car, and tossed them my way. "Go. I got this."

I surged ahead, then something made me slam to a halt. I spun around. Mela looked at me in confusion.

"Elyse's isn't dead, Mela. They didn't kill her—they took her."

Her soft round cheeks tightened, along with every single muscle in her body. She glanced upward, biting at her bottom lip, trying not to cry. "She may as well be."

"Not yet. She won't be just yet. If you want to free her, find someone to get you into the Pelans' laboratories."

Her gaze shot to mine, incredulous. "Go against the Horned Gods?"

"Is she worth it?"

A fearsome look came upon her, and she nodded.

"Then do it," I told her.

I went to twist away, practically in a blind panic, when Mela lunged forward, her plait bouncing with the motion, and her palm outward to warn me to stop. "Wait!"

"Yeah?" I asked her, silently cursing myself for mentally screaming at her to hurry up and speak her piece, because every single molecule I was made from was roaring at me to go, find Nelle, now.

"Whatever is going on with you. Whatever it is you've got yourself into, you know you can come to me anytime, right? I can help you fix it, make it right." She couldn't, but I gave her a nod anyway. She smiled fleetingly, a flash of white teeth, just before she added, "Gray, who's to say you have to choose? If there are only two players in the game, only two choices—then become the third." She made a shooing motion with her hand, and I took it as the release she was gifting me. I spun around and ran.

But as I erupted out through the heavy door, and into the subway tunnels with its loud chaotic sounds of life, and the throng of mortals milling about the platform, her words resonated deep inside, a bell tolling—deep and loud.

Become the third.

***

I stopped for no one.

I pushed my Mustang as fast it could go—barreling through the congested streets of Ascendria, flying down the highway and through the open country roads as if it were the Circuit de Monaco, and roared down the winding driveway of my family's estate. Just after crossing the drawbridge into my family's fortress, I slammed the car to a skidding halt. Beneath my death grip, the Mustang's steering wheel vibrated, and white-smoke churned from its tires. I was out of the car, practically hurling myself free. My feet hit cobblestones hard as I burst across the inner courtyard in a streak of panic to the tower where I resided.

Though there were a few guards and soldiers striding toward the barracks or heading out on the early-morning shift, the courtyard was unusually empty even for this time of night. My father was abroad, my aunt away, and my brothers were still dealing with the Widowmakers on the eastern seaboard. They'd taken our Warband with them, leaving behind a thin garrison to guard our home and family.

Nausea roiled inside my gut like the churning clouds above that obscured the moon in the night sky. I almost felt lightheaded with it all. I'd driven from Ascendria trying to feel Nelle out. All I could think about was what kind of sickness was ailing her, what could have made the link between us fade. I was a blur racing up the winding tower's steps to my quarters, desperate to get to her. As I neared the top of the tower, voices carried downward. A male voice, firm yet gentle, and another, a woman's voice spilling over with dread.

"Penn, you're doing good... That's it..."

"Nothing's happening. There's no change in her heartbeat. We need to try something else...anything."

A pause. A sigh. "There's nothing more we can do, Penn."

My heart lurched, then fell while I listened to the exchange.

Those gathered at the top of the landing drew back at my thunderous approach. I barely gave them a second glance. The door to my room was wide open and I was inside, slamming to my knees, and everything spinning through my head evaporated the moment I laid my eyes on Nelle.

Oh my gods...

Nelle lay on the floor with her head on Penn's lap. Her gray eyes, the surrounding delicate skin stained with purple, were barely open and glassy. Her chest rose and fell with her erratic, shallow breaths—wet rasps that clenched my heart.

I reached for her, afraid to even touch her.

"What's happened to her?"

Me, that's who. I knew it before asking.

I did this to her.

But what was going on? I'd left her a week ago and she hadn't been ill.

Soft blankets were nestled beneath Nelle's ashen, shivering body. Sweat glistened over her pallid face and exposed limbs with the low lighting coming from above, and strands of lank hair were plastered to her forehead. I scooped my arms carefully beneath her body, picked her up gently, and shifted her onto my lap. Against my big hands, she seemed frail and delicate and could shatter into pieces with the wrong pressure. She'd lost weight in the past week. Her cheekbones were sharp and cheeks hollow and the collar bones beneath her nightie were prominent.

That strange hum beneath my skin picked up in close proximity to her, but I still couldn't feel her like I used to. The filaments of magic that connected us had become thin insubstantial threads like mist, a faint, faded copy of what we once were.

The medical bag beside Penn gaped wide open. Some of its contents, empty syringes, and vials were scattered on the carpet, along with a thermometer and blood pressure monitor.

Penn pulled the stethoscope from her ears. Locks of dark hair had come loose from her usually neat bun and framed her weary face. Her uniform was rumpled and she looked like she'd barely slept herself. Her blue eyes swam with pity. "She was slowly coming down with something after you left. At first, I thought it was to do with the malaise of her situation..." Guilt stabbed my heart and I briefly squeezed my eyes shut. "But it only got worse over the last few days."

Our physician, a man in his fifties with silver-white hair and a friendly demeanor, shifted on his heels and drew my attention his way. "I came as soon as I could and arrived a few hours back. Your brothers have almost routed the Widowmakers... But it wasn't easy..." He dropped his gaze to his hands, tensely rubbing his knees, before meeting my eyes once more. And in that statement, I knew just how bad it had obviously been. But right at this moment, I didn't give a fuck about the Widowmakers, and selfishly couldn't let myself wonder who made it and who hadn't.

He was squatting just outside the doorway. He couldn't get in, and just as I leaned sideways to touch the wall and will the room's magical barrier to allow him to enter, he rose, waving a hand to stop me. "Don't bother."

His blunt features were tight and his expression guarded, and it set my blood running cold in my veins. "Penn's done everything I could have done for the girl. Whatever it is..." he shook his head, lifting a shoulder. "I can't help." In his faded blue eyes was an apology that wrenched my insides. "Whatever's ailing her isn't natural. We've tried every antidote to curses. There's nothing else we can do. She's dying."

I shot to my feet, rage and pain and disbelief blustering through my veins. "Like fuck she is!"

"She's refusing to drink any fluids, nor broth or water. She'll effectively starve to death, burn up with dehydration, but this unnatural fever—that's what will kill her first when her heart gives out."

It was so quiet in the room, deathly quiet apart from Nelle's labored struggle for breath.

"There's got to be something we can do," I begged him.

He shook his head.

My grip tightened around Nelle, she felt like ice beneath my hands. "Go," I hissed. Anger burned through my blood. A feeling I could control. A feeling I could unleash. "Get the fuck out of here!"

Penn picked up the medical equipment and the empty vials and syringes. The empty clink of glass and ceramic as they fell from her fingers into the medical bag rang through the deafening silence that filled the room. The slow metallic whir of a zipper followed as she closed the physician's black leather bag. She rose, clutching the bag to her chest, and drew away, her feet barely making any noise on the carpet as she left the room with one last pitying glance over her shoulder.

Our physician's retreating footfall was a series of heavy thuds on the stone steps as he followed Penn down the spiral staircase. The noise of his footsteps kept time with my heart—a slow ponderous pace. And then my heart slowed down even further and skipped beats, faltered then beat impossibly fast before stumbling. Exactly as it always did when I was with Nelle—my heartbeat synching with hers.

Nelle was light, too light in my arms. Her hair draped over my arm, swaying in sweat-damp tangled knots, and her limbs dangled like a rag-doll, just as the Changeling had done too in my arms when I thought it was Nelle, dead.

Her head lolled against the crook of my arm and she blinked sluggishly up at me. I bowed my head closer. "Nelle," I whispered.

Nelle stared back at me with fever-glazed eyes. She might have mouthed my name but I think it was more like—Bastard. Her trembling hand rose, and I thought she was going to cup my cheek, but she—

Slapped me.

Not hard, because she was too weak for that. But a slap nevertheless. Her hand fell limply away.

Movement and a whispering of fabric had my gaze darting back to the open doorway. I hadn't even realized my sister Ferne was here too. She moved closer, leaning a hand on the edge of the doorway's frame, her head cocked to the side, her eyeless sockets bound with lace. She couldn't get past the magical barrier, and even now, I couldn't let her in. "Gray, we're missing something obvious, I'm sure of it," she murmured softly.

I couldn't help the cruel sharpness of my tone. "Ferne." She flinched. "I can't... Just go." I didn't know what to do.

My sister retreated into the shadows of the inner stairwell, slowly edging toward the first step downward. Her confliction and sorrow were a bitter taste on my tongue. Just as her foot drew up and then downward—she froze. Her black hair slid down lower on one side of her chest as she angled her head back toward us. A deep pensive look crossed her features. She suddenly straightened, spun around, and took several quick steps forward, her mouth parted—

And I just couldn't—

I was about to bark at her to just leave, please, when she threw up her hand and snapped at me, "Shut it."

She stood in the middle of the doorway, spread her hands wide, and trilled her fingers as if she was playing the ivory keys of a piano, except she was feeling with her senses. I felt them rush into the room, brushing past, sensing and probing. Ferne stilled and sucked in a sharp breath. "I can't feel anything but the air-conditioning in here," she said, accusation heavy in her tone.

Half-twisting around, I glanced around at the circular room I resided in at the top of the tower—at the smooth expanse of stone. No windows, no doors to the outside, apart from the one I'd just entered. Of course, there would be air conditioning in here, flowing from the shafts above set into the vaulted ceiling.

"We've been looking at this from the wrong angle," she said hissed, sounding more like she was talking to herself than me. Her voice rose sharply. "There's no light in here Gray. No natural light."

"That's because there aren't any windows."

"Please tell me you didn't trap her in here in stone with nothing but man-made light?" She dropped her hands to her sides, one of them curled into a fist and lifted. "Gray," she barked. "Nelle's a Wyrm."

"She's..." I was about to say, human. But that wasn't technically correct either.

"Human, yes," my sister replied following my line of thought. "But with the power of a wyrm inside her. She's a godsdamned wyrm, Gray, and that side of her needs to bask in either—"

"Moonlight or sunlight." I finished for her. Or in Nelle's case, deep in my gut, I knew she was both. She needed both.

Hope, godsdamned hope, swelled in my chest.

"By locking her up here and denying her natural light, you've forced the wyrm to go into hibernation."

The word drowned out everything else inside my head—hibernation.

The last of the wyrms, including a few my family had freed after the Final War, were buried beneath the earth, not extinct as most of the Houses thought, but hibernating—currently lost and forgotten and safe.

Apart from the one in my arms.

"How...?" I couldn't quite get my head around it.

"Who the hells knows, Gray? Nelle's something that's never been born in our world before."

Nelle shivered in my arms. Her body was icy, her breathing slow and labored, not eating...or drinking—hibernation.

"She can't handle being trapped in here because the beast inside her is a wyrm," my sister said, "and that's what it would naturally do without either source of natural light to fuel it—go into hibernation."

Oh my gods...

My fault...my fault...my fault...

I was frozen to the spot trying to process it all when Ferne shouted, "Do something!" She stabbed a finger behind me. "Open the godsdamned windows! The doors!"

I jerked into motion, carrying Nelle to the closest wall, where my baby sister stood within the doorframe trembling with violent emotion. I cradled Nelle with one arm and spread my free hand against the cold stone threaded with adamere which glittered like sunlight reflecting off snow. The tower's magic had been willed to my own, all I had to do was close my eyes and think of how I wanted to change the space. As I narrowed my thoughts and visualized the changes, the harsh sound of grating stone scratched at my ears.

Brisk crisp air swirled into the room, skimming my body and causing what little skin was exposed, to goose-prickle.

Parting my eyelashes, I withdrew my hand to hold Nelle better and turned. The room was opened up everywhere, with arches spaced evenly around the circular tower. As I hurried outside and stepped onto the balcony, fear and dread crushed the air from my lungs as I stared upward at the thick banks of clouds covering the moon.

The night sky was as dark as my soul. No moonlight.