Beyond Her Final Breath (Book 1- Shadowland Duology) | Wattys2015

.Chapter Thirty-Five.

Everything was in place. 

Flames flickered and ate away at the wick of vanilla candles, and they were placed in specific locations around Sage's room. A thick line of salt outlined the edges of the room. It was a feeble attempt for protection, but it was the only thing they had. 

Nathan eyed the amethyst engraved knife in Sage's hand. The candlelight bit off the blade and reflected in sharp refractions. He shied away from the knife. Nate could almost feel the blade pressing against his skin, hungry as a starved beast. 

The soul in his hand pulsed and shuddered in a strange heartbeat. Heat and ice stung his skin where the soul touched, but he held on tight. 

"Why do we need the blade?"

The siblings glanced over at Evie. Her skin pulsed with a red glow, and her eyes were embers glowing in a white flame. 

"Because," Sage said, "whenever you do a spell that could cause innocents harm, it requires blood." 

Nate looked alarmed. "What?"

There was a crease of pain between her eyebrows, but she smiled anyways. It was a strained smile, like her lips were pulled too tight from the corners. "It'll be fine. For the greater good, right?"

"Is it- I mean, is it going to hurt? How much blood do you need?" His words struggled to pass through his lips. 

"Nate." Sage placed a calming hand on his arm. "I know what I'm doing. I'll be fine."

Swallowing, Nathan nodded and continued to watch Sage. 

"As soon as the wards are down, they'll swarm upon us." Her words felt like shadows pouring out of her mouth. "The salt might hold them off for a few seconds, but it should be enough time for Blake's soul to get carried away."

"And as soon as he's gone, Evelyn will pass on?"

Sage fumbled with the hem of her shirt. "Maybe. I don't know. The transformation has already begun, and I don't know if the Reapers will get to her first."

Silence. Heavy and thick and suffocating laid itself upon them. 

"Do it." It was Evie. 

Sage nodded once in her direction and then got to work. The candles flickered with her movements and shadows climbed the walls. She held her hand above a glass bowl. Nerves wracked Nate and he felt like he might be sick. 

Words flew out of her mouth in a quiet hum. The dagger was raised, poised, ready to bite into her flesh. She took a ragged inhale and sliced the blade over her palm in a fast jerk. She hissed and clenched her fist. Blood oozed between her fingers. 

She opened her hand back up. The red dripped off the ends of her fingers. It hit the bottom of the glass bowl with a steady drip, drip, drip. 

Nathan thought he was about to be sick. 

The blood pooled in the bowl. Nate could just smell the metallic tang of it, feel the slickness of it rub against his fingers, but then he realized he'd felt that before while Evie was dying. He looked over at her. 

She was slumped on the ground, head in her hands. Crimson flowers bloomed on the front of her shirt, growing at a rapid pace. Her breathing was rapid, making her chest rise and fall at a sporadic rate. Evie looked up at him. 

"I remember," she whispered. "Everything." 

Grief clogged his nose. Sage was bleeding, Evie was in pain, and it was all because of Blake. 

He felt like crushing the soul in his hands. He wanted to throw it, hurt it, in anyway he could. But if he did, Evie would change and people would die. So he held on.