As I catch my breath, a deep ache blooms within my chest. It gnaws at my heart, splitting it into pieces from within, and I know I’ll never be whole again.
The love of my life is gone.
I bury my head against her hair, whispering a million apologies.
“I should never have left,” I cry.
“I should never have left.
“I should never have left.”
Attention:Grand House
Lyria Archyr’s mind is fragmented in the same pattern as Elena Carver’s. Authorization requested for an Arkani-Aspieri crossmage to consult on their cases. Treat with highest priority, as their memories may clue us in on Grimm’s motivations.
GRAYSON DARRO, MAGUS PRINCIPALIS, PRINCIPAL READER, ST. FABIAN’S WARD FOR ALTERED MINDS
forty-nine | viola
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1939
Attention:Grayson Darro, M.P. Principal Reader, St. Fabian’s Ward for Altered Minds
Crossmages are in violation of Decree 15258.
Authorization:Denied.
Use of unregistered/underground crossmages will strip you of rank and position. Fines begin at 100,000 gold coins, and penalty is a maximum of five years in prison.
VIV ROWAN, THIRD GRAND MASTER OF ARCANE
fifty | sylas
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1939
Archyr, you’re smothering me.”
I think I’m dreaming, that I passed out from the heartbreak. Or better, that I’m dead, and this is the afterlife. Because there is no other reason Viola would be talking to me.
Lifting my head, I run my knuckles over her cheek. Her skin is so cold, covered in angry bruises. I must have heard her ghost speak—did she really just use her last words to tell me to let go of her?—because her eyes are still shut, her lips dry and still. I sigh, placing a kiss on her forehead.
When I pull back, Viola’s eyelids peel open, and she draws in the sharpest breath. I blink at her in horror, thinking Grimm’s risen her as a puppet.
Looking around, I realize we’re alone. Is this a trick of the Gods?
Then I see it.
Around her neck sits the golden aspier. For the first time since he saved my life, Raiek opens his eyes.
The days without you are long, the nights impossible. I made a mistake letting you go to a world where they hate you because of the magic I gave you.
Come back. Come back, and the Underworld is yours.
LETTER FROM THE GOD OF DEATH TO YSENIA FARO, THE FIRST MORTEMAGI
fifty-one | viola
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1939