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It was identical to that outline within the light, the stiletto tips at all four points matching exactly. And the rays outside of it…
“Oh, my shitting stars.” With a cry, Lunara reached into the ether all the way to Straelon, to the mantle in her and Fern’s shared room, and snatched Brand’s dagger to place it beside her own.
One born of Solyrian, one of darker things—perfect, matching opposites.
Side by side, it was obvious they were meant to be together. That the fuller in Brand’s, and the straight, spiked recesses in its waving handles, were made to cradle her smaller one. That the black gem in hers would settle right into the concave center of the sunstar depicted on the hilt of his.
“Ray and beam meet one another,” Brand whispered, lifting his. “Hello, old friend. It seems you were not complete before.” Their eyes met, the double meaning not lost on her.
Lunara’s was still unfamiliar in her hold, but she lifted it and met him halfway.
She and Brand were blown apart the second the blades touched, crashing into opposite bookshelves. The others woke in a fit, their shouts muffled behind the ringing in her ears as the world came back into focus.
Someday, it would be lovely if we could do one damned thing that doesn’t wreak havoc.
Piss. Shite. Arse. Her bones were still rattling when she sat up, trying to hold her damned head together and hissing against the throb where spine had met stack.
Sweet baby Sisters in a cradle.
Hovering in the air where they’d just been sitting was the dagger, made new in its joining. The blade from Nachthelliae writhed within the confines of the other, exactly like the shadows of the chasm did. Meanwhile, the rays on Brand’s shone, alive as they worked to contain it.
“What the fuck?” Fern rounded it with wide eyes, reaching a single finger out to—
A massive fist engulfed that finger, Magnus snatching her away before she could touch it. “Not a good idea, lass. That, there, wasn’t made for the likes of you or I.”
“Oh, is that right?” She raised an imperious brow but didn’t pull away from his hold. “You don’t even know what that is.”
“That is how we hold her together,” Lunara croaked, accepting Hedda’s hand up.
Brand was already on his feet and shirking Faldir’s hold, wholly focused on Lunara. “That is how we win.”
“Not all the way, yet,” Luna said, her nerves firing in his own flesh. “Just enough to be sure that you can.”
Brand nodded and gritted his teeth, calling out to his power, eyes set on Illamiata.
So obvious, in the end, that he should be able to control it. Shite, it was arguable that any Demon within the Montrealm might’ve been able to, provided they were on their own soil and had it out for his mate.
Brand reached towards it with a light caress of the mind, the cut, crystalline stone much like any other in the end. It vibrated against his command, resisting the pull like it had no desire to be separated from its mistress.
He could relate.
I am hers and she is mine. We are one and the same. I would never harm her, nor any that loves her as I do, he told it.
Illamiata…listened.
It echoed back in solidarity, a trust opening between them that boggled his mind. A coax and it shimmered, prismatic threads twining in the air. The next coaxing inspired its voices—just a hum in his own ears. A reminder of what it was capable of. What it had done to him not so very long ago.
Thank you for that. For my freedom.
A sigh—his or the stone’s, he didn’t know—and it popped free from its resting place in her skin. He didn’t intend for that to happen yet, but it was like Illamiata had a mind of its own and wished to help, anticipating his future request.
Luna was utterly still, face a blank mask, but her panic ran rampant inside of him.
“It’s alright, little moon,” he murmured. “She knows where her home is.”
He relinquished all control, his power falling away to nothing, and Illamiata immediately snapped back to her.
She released an explosive sigh, body sagging. “I could feel it, like it was still connected but set apart. Sort of like my likenesses. I wonder if it will be the same while it holds her.”
