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Anguish.

Even the air surrounding Syrene seemed to wobble with anguish.

Faolin watched as the skin at her jaw cracked, and blood—bubbling, as if it were boiled—slithered down her neck, leaving burn marks.

She could only watch as Syrene screamed and screamed and screamed and not a soul in the world stirred. Not a tree rustled.

Could only watch as her friend clawed at the ground, her face, her arms, drawing blood everywhere.

Faolin couldn't breathe. Such cruelty ...

Her mouth had gone dry as a sandpaper.

Felset was smiling the entire time, drinking in the brutalized soul, feeding on it. Delaya had stepped forward and turned to face Syrene, to have a better view. She was smiling too.

Syrene's tears came red now, being burned through and through.

"Beg, Syrene," Felset crooned. "Beg, and I might consider stopping this."

Syrene didn't. Felset wasn't aware that Syrene had already accepted her doom—no matter how brutal. The queen hadn't the faintest idea Syrene would rather be dealt pain as such for years and years than beg to the woman who'd abused the helpless over and over.

Definitely not when Syrene knew Felset wouldn't kill her—Delaya had already hinted they were going to keep her alive.

Faolin's heart ached. If only she could move

She felt as Ferouzeh's hand cautiously, secretly, came to Faolin's shoulder.

She stilled.

How was the healer able to move—

Then it clicked. Ferouzeh's mejest was pure, ethereal. Untouched by any contamination. The Darkness couldn't touch it. Wouldn't.

But Ferouzeh also knew she could do nothing against the two sisters. Faolin felt the liquid warmth as it flowed into her mejest, offering aid. It licked the invisible bonds.

Faolin felt the Darkness cowering, felt her mind clearing—

Her heart thundered when she realized what the healer was doing.

Ferouzeh was giving her access to her mejest—to the sorceress power.

Enough to snap the bonds.

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