Page 118 of Demon and the Raven

And then I remembered what I’d learned, what my lord Arawn knew the first time he saw Lorne, the same thing Elen saw in a flash of complete understanding.

A piece of my magic lived in Lorne.

It didn’t live in his body, his blood, or his bones. It wasn’t anywhere that the demon would touch. It lived in his soul. And the soul belonged to the man.

Lorne’s hand, now the demon’s, filled my vision as he reached for my throat.

I knew in those seconds that there was more than the land that could aid me.

Because I wasn’t alone. I was never alone.

Yes, on my land I was strongest, but within me, in my blood, in my soul, I carried centuries of those who would come when called, who would give anything, make any sacrifice to protect me, because we were one. They loved me, and their love was the greatest gift of all.

My family.

“Please!” I called on my ancestors to strengthen my connection to the land. “Help me convince Corvus of the truth, to claim what is mine!”

It was like time stopped.

The sudden roar was like a sonic boom. Dirt and leaves, flowers and branches, as well as the demon, all rose into the air at once, holding, suspended.

“This cannot be!” the demon shrieked.

Lorne’s eyes began to bleed again as he continued to rise, and then…everything dropped. My whole world fell hard, like it was weighted, and then Kamosh was sucked underground as if by a violent, ravenous sinkhole.

I called to Corvus, felt its anger and fury rolling through me, burning, biting, ripping. The land was betrayed, deceived, and now horrified it had allowed such evil to defile our sacred space, to trespass near the rift of the divine, and worse, the greatest sin of all, to be so near the guardian.

Corvus had listened to me, allowed the creature to walk with me, but the creature had betrayed my trust, and corrupted that which I loved, and the land could no longer find Lorne. I knew Lorne was still there, but Corvus did not.

This creature will end, the land said.

End the demon, keep the man, I said.

Both will die, the land answered.

You love the man, I reminded Corvus.

He was underground, far below, moving quickly, and even with some air pockets, there wouldn’t be enough oxygen for a human. The magic of the land was the only reason he could breathe. But also, he wasn’t in a mudslide or quicksand, he wasn’t buried alive by tons of earth. He was in a torrent of soil, sifting through, while the land determined his fate. If the ground stopped shaking, rolling, vibrating, if it decided he was guilty, he’d be dead. If everything settled, he’d be crushed to death.

I love the man, I told Corvus. The man loves me.

Nothing.

The man is a guardian, I said.

Still no answer.

The pomegranates are his. That was my last hope.

Seconds felt like hours, and the silence broke me open.

I would not be the same without him…

The pomegranates are his, the land agreed.

And finally, I could breathe.

There was a sound like a thunderclap, and up from the depths of Corvus, from the mortar of bone and blood, came a screaming Lorne. The demon remained behind, torn from his body, the winnowing brutal but complete.