Blessed Monsters (Something Dark and Holy #3) - Emily A. Duncan Page 0,168

gods could not be changed.

So, it was up to Nadya to change. For her to see her enemies as friends, as family. To recognize that her beliefs needed to adapt to the world as it truly was. To allow them to live alongside the beliefs of a boy who thought differently, instead of smothering down what he cared about.

It was idealistic.

But Nadya was idealistic. She was idealistic and too empathetic and too hopeful that things might change, one day. That maybe she would never end the war, but she had tried. She had tried by extending a hand to the prince who had burned her home and destroyed her family. She had tried by falling in love with the boy who had done so much harm, so much evil, but wanted to be better.

She didn’t know if he could. But she hoped.

It was that hope that kept her standing as Chyrnog began to take her apart. As he started to rip her into more palatable pieces. As he decided that her bitterness on his tongue wouldn’t be quite so bad after all.

Just a girl at the end of everything, power all her own because it didn’t matter who had given it to her. It was hers and she wanted it and she would use it.

She held Parijahan’s hand tight and prayed to every single god she knew that this would work.

She let herself be devoured.

55

MALACHIASZ CZECHOWICZ

It’s death. It’s always been death. The final piece, the final key, the thing that has been driving us all. There’s no escape. There never was.

—Fragment from the personal journals of Innokentiy Tamarkin

It was when the tether that tied Nadya to Malachiasz snapped that he struck. It was through an overwhelming tide of grief that he channeled all the chaos of his power into throwing the storm before him into the trap he had built within his spell book.

It was too much.

Even with Serefin’s power alongside his own. Even with what he knew was Parijahan’s calm in the storm. Even with the last dregs of Nadya’s dying eldritch magic. It was too much.

Malachiasz knew when he was overwhelmed. Chyrnog’s smug satisfaction. They hadn’t been strong enough. If they hadn’t all chosen mortality, would they have been able to trap him? If one of them had sacrificed more, would it have been enough?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He didn’t know.

He pressed his hand against the worn cover of his spell book, blood dripping down his arms, from his eyes, from his nose. He worked to form the magic swirling around them.

He … failed.

So, he pulled on Chyrnog’s power. He formed the entropy into himself. It would take him. It would eat him. But maybe it would be enough.

He dimly heard someone swearing. Felt someone’s hand over his. Too late. It was too late. They weren’t strong enough. They wouldn’t ever be strong enough. They chose to be human; they chose to live.

And so, they chose to die.

56

SEREFIN MELESKI

I’ll defect. They cannot keep me here, I have always been their toy, their pawn, their weapon. Veceslav cannot hold me where I do not wish to remain. The gods are not nearly as powerful as they claim to be. The Tranavians, not so wrong, after all.

—Fragment from the personal journals of Celestyna Privalova

Warmth played across Serefin’s skin. He frowned, dimly aware he was waking, but not enough to open his eye.

“He’s breathing, at least.”

He knew that voice.

“And the others?”

A sigh. “Breathing, but comatose. I don’t know. It’s been weeks. They might be gone. I don’t know what they did.”

“Let me know if anything changes, please.”

“Of course.”

The sound of a door closing. The feeling of someone taking his hand.

“Your eye is twitching, which is more than I’ve been getting from you.” Kacper. “Maybe you’re still in there. I hope so. I miss you. Also, I cannot keep these moths from chewing through the bedding and Katya’s servants are going to murder me.”

It was the urge to laugh that knocked him through the wall holding him back. He stirred. He heard Kacper’s sharp intake of breath.

“Serefin?”

It took monumental effort to open his eye, but he did.

Kacper’s breath left him in a rush. “Serefin.”

Then he was being kissed and it was all very overwhelming, and he didn’t think he was really in a state to be kissing, but that didn’t deter Kacper who moved right on to kissing the scars on Serefin’s face.

“I shouldn’t’ve done that.” Kacper leaned back. “You need space, sorry. I’m sorry. Serefin, I’m so glad you’re