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There were no words for the sundering of his very soul. For the violence in his anguish.

His screams accompanied an avalanche of writhing darkness, the grotto filling to the brim. Only the golden dome of Endellion’s magic saved him from drowning in the shadowy deluge—a fact that was little comfort in the scheme of things.

Brand didn’t realize just how vital Lunara had become, how every beat of his heart was hers, until it was being ripped away and replaced with an infinite, yawning void. A hole, where she should be.

Endellion wrenched back, the darkness gone from her hand. “The pain will disappear soon. For a while, anyway. I promise. What comes after you make it through, if you make it through, I cannot say without risking everything. But please, for her, for yourself—stars, for all of us—you must stay within this cage for as long as you’re possibly able.” She smoothed his brow, the thing in him recoiling from the touch. “She’s nowhere near ready to save you, do you understand me? Only you, the Greater, can buy her the time she needs. So, close your eyes, Brandir aht Bordoroth, and forget.”

She straightened, suddenly less solid than before. “And now I offer one future truth for you to take beyond what I may tell you plainly, just because I can.” Her voice came from a distance, wispy and thin. “The Moonweaver will tell you the story of a moth. It’s not for you, the sun and the moon. That doesn’t mean others won’t know what to do.”

Numbness overtook his limbs and Brand did exactly as she said.

He closed his eyes and forgot.

Violet and sea glass eyes switched places. Cackling spells and weeping wails blended together. The weight on his chest went from suffocating to…something else. But time was warped, his mind was shattered, and no matter how fucking lovely the body on top of him smelled, it hurt. The sounds she was making only made it worse, and he sure as shite didn’t fucking trust it.

Why was she the one crying?

“Shhh.”

A hand fisted his tunic, but it didn’t make sense. The bitch had long since taken his clothes.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

He was lost. Hopelessly. But he’d had enough. If she was stupid enough to betray him and then get this close, he refused to waste the opportunity.

Brand wrapped an arm around his captor, swallowing against a swirl of nausea, against the pins and needles crawling over his skin, and squeezed. “No more crying,” he rumbled. “Please. Shhh.”

“Brand?”

Sweet Sisters, why did it twist so sharply in his chest when she said his name? Why was her voice so different? There was something about it that set alarm bells pealing, but it was a lie. It had to be. That was all she did. Lie, lie, lie.

“We don’t need to cry anymore. I was good.”

Damn her for making him do it.

“Brand, that h-hurts.”

He certainly fucking hoped it did.

“Please. Please, stop.” She thrashed but Brand held fast despite the sensation of his flesh being peeled away.

She could beg and weep and fight all she wanted. He was done being her puppet. This was his chance to get free. To go home. He’d crawl the whole way back if he had to.

“Brand, stop!” Her scream raked down every nerve ending, fueling his anger.

“No. No screaming,” he growled. “Can’t listen to any more screaming. I was good.”

Her ribs finally snapped, pleas turning garbled. He didn’t want to look too closely at how satisfying the sound was. At the twitch of his lips that didn’t quite feel like a choice.

He was too close to being rid of her to care.

Brand gritted his teeth through the agony, lifted his other arm, and wrapped a fist around her puny neck and skull. His own head pounded in response, like his was the one being crushed. Even if it was, oh well. As long as hers popped off and rolled across the dank floor of his prison cell first, he’d be at peace.

He pressed his mouth to her ear, a strange comfort in the proximity. “Shhh.”

The hush was as much to soothe himself as it was a demand for her to finally shut up. He hardly remembered why, anymore—just that she needed to fucking die.

A different shriek rent the air right before a comet landed beside him, sending chunks of stone flying. “Don’t you fucking dare.”