“You succeeded,” he murmured.

While Zak had disabled the barrier sealing Ezra inside the ritual circle, I’d called Darius. Our brief conversation had included no details except our location and “Ezra is dying, bring healers now!”

“We did,” I whispered. “Ezra won.”

But he might still die.

“Darius …” My throat constricted. “Kai and Aaron …?”

“Safe. They’re in the MPD lockup.”

Faint relief sparked through me. “Robin and Amalia?”

Darius’s mouth thinned and he gave his head a small shake. I wanted to ask what that shake meant, except I knew it would be bad news and I couldn’t handle that right now.

We didn’t speak again as Elisabetta leaned over Ezra. Miles had moved to a clear patch of concrete where he began drawing out a large Arcana array with rapid strokes of an alchemic marker. His low chanting filled the room, occasionally joined by Elisabetta’s quiet orders for Zak.

Miles and Elisabetta finished at the same time. Zak helped the healers shift Ezra onto the array, then retreated as they knelt on either side of the mage. While Elisabetta checked his IV bag and finger gadget, Miles began another chant. Faint light shimmered across the array.

Peeling off his bloodstained surgical gloves, Zak crossed toward us, stopping a few steps away. He and the GM eyed each other—Zak with wariness and Darius with cool appraisal.

After a long moment, the druid jerked his chin toward the demon body. “That should be dealt with immediately.”

Darius nodded. “I noticed the yard out back is dirt. I have shovels in my vehicle.”

“Shovels?” I muttered, most of my attention on Ezra and the healers. “Do you always tote shovels around?”

“Yes. I never know when I might need to bury a body.”

My gaze snapped to the GM. With anyone else, I would’ve assumed they were joking, but with Darius …

Zak gave me a rag and a bottle of “cleaner potion” from his supplies, then he and Darius headed outside together. My heart beat in a sickening rhythm of fear as I moved to the farthest edge of the summoning array from Eterran and began wiping away the evidence of our demonic ritual.

Miles continued to chant, the minutes dragging by. Every time his voice stopped, I’d whip toward the healers, but they would merely add something to their array—a new rune, an earthy ingredient, a talisman—before resuming.

An hour passed, then another. I scrubbed my way across the floor until only the markings around Eterran remained. With my back throbbing after too long bent over, I inched toward the healers, peering down at their work.

White lines and runes marked Ezra’s bronze skin, similar to the ones that spanned the floor beneath him. The punctures in his stomach had closed, the angry lines smudged with dried blood, the stitches removed.

I exhaled shakily.

The door clattered. Darius and Zak walked in, their faces shining with perspiration. Zak carried a large black tarp and a coil of rope.

My chest ached strangely as the two men spread the tarp out and dragged the heavy demon onto it. The ache intensified as they tucked Eterran’s wings in—those huge wings that had unfurled with surprising elegance. What had the demon looked like in flight? Had he been graceful, agile?

I bit down on the inside of my cheek as Zak drew the tarp over the demon’s still face. I’d seen so many of his expressions through Ezra’s features, but so little from the demon himself. He’d waited so long, fought so hard, to return to his own body.

Had it been for nothing? His suffering, his struggles, his determination?

The memory of the demon and mage in their final moments of battle shivered through me—each one’s weapon buried in the other’s body, their wounds not a true reflection but mirrored in an unnerving way.

Darius and Zak tied the tarp around the demon’s body, and when they hauled it across the floor, I followed with numb steps.

In the dirt lot behind the warehouse, its perimeter stacked with abandoned junk and scrap metal, Darius and Zak had dug an oversized grave. They dragged the body into the hole, then picked up their shovels.

“Zak.” I held out my hands. “Let me.”

His gaze flicked across my face, then he handed me the shovel. Darius waited as I dug the blade into the dirt heap beside the grave and threw the first shovelful into the hole. The soil landed on the tarp with a terrible sound.

When I stuck my shovel into the pile a second time, Darius joined me. Zak waited off to the side while Darius and I buried the demon in his unmarked grave.

With every turn of my shovel, I wondered what I was feeling. How could I experience sorrow and relief at the same time? How could I be glad the demon was dead, but also mourn him? He’d been an ally and enemy both. An adversary but also a comrade. He’d been a victim, deceived and abused by the Court, just like Ezra.

Demon and human. Warrior and child. They’d hated each other, tormented each other, relied on each other. They’d survived together for ten years, but only one of them would continue on. Eterran, who’d been so driven to live, had died.

My throat closed. I shoveled the last of the dirt onto the grave, my arms shaking.

Zak’s hand closed around the shovel’s handle. He pulled it away, then held out a black object. Staring in confusion, I cautiously pulled it from his hand and turned it over. A leather bracer with a protective metal plate, upon which was etched a strange symbol.

It was the bracer that had been around Eterran’s wrist.

“When did you …” I whispered, unable to finish the sentence.

“It’s for Ezra.” Zak’s low voice blended with the night. “When someone has that much influence over your life … protector and oppressor … then suddenly they’re gone—” He broke off, mouth thinning. “Ezra may not want it, but I think he will.”

My fingers tightened around the bracer.

He joined Darius in spreading the dirt out to disguise the loose earth that warned of something buried beneath. I swallowed against the scratchy ache in my throat. I needed to go back inside. To check on Ezra. To finish cleaning the floor so that when we left this place, there’d be no evidence of what had happened here.

But I continued to stand there, staring at the disturbed soil. There were no graves in the world that meant anything to me.

Until now.

I was sitting on the floor again, this time beside the cot. Ezra was stretched across it, a thermal blanket laid over him, and I rejoiced over each slow breath he took.

The warehouse was quiet. As soon as the healing was completed and Ezra was comfortable, Darius had whisked Elisabetta and Miles away—returning them to the guild before anyone, namely the MPD, noticed they’d left. Lucky for all of us, our GM’s lumina magic made stealth operations simple.

Zak had slipped away to scout the area and ensure no one had noticed anything unusual, while I kept my butt parked beside Ezra. I wasn’t leaving him, period.

He’d survived—the ritual, the battle afterward, and his injuries. Joyful relief shivered in my gut, but a layer of utter emotional exhaustion muted the feeling. I was spent. Waiting in a numb stupor, I lost all sense of time.

It wasn’t until Ezra’s fingers tightened around mine that I stirred back to full awareness. I lifted my head.

A warm, weary brown eye gazed at me. The left side of his face was bandaged, exacerbating his usual asymmetry. Elisabetta and Miles had focused on healing Ezra’s worst wounds, leaving the damage to his old scars to be healed later.

I pushed onto my knees. “Ezra?”

He squeezed my fingers. “Am I in one piece?”

“All limbs and digits presently accounted for.” I pressed my hand to his cheek. “How do you feel?”

“Like I took the worst beating of my life.” His forehead scrunched, then smoothed. His eye slid closed, and his expression went alarmingly tranquil. “Hmm …”

“Ezra?” I squeaked.

“I can’t even remember the last time …” As he trailed off, his eye opened and he gingerly turned his head to stare across the room where the ritual circle had been. “He’s gone.”

“Yes. He … he’s dead. We buried him.” I hesitated. “Do you think he …?”

Ezra said nothing, his gaze distant. Was he reliving the final moments of his desperate battle with Eterran, analyzing each moment?

Eventually, he refocused on me. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine—though if not for that barrier, I would’ve been in there with you. I thought the damn thing was supposed to keep demons in, not people out.”

“Hmm. That’s true of a regular summoning circle, but it sort of makes sense for a demon mage ritual to trap the human too.” A shadow passed over his face. “In case the human host tries to change their mind.”

Had that ever happened? During his time at the cult, had he seen a prospective demon mage try to flee in mid-ritual?

“I’m glad it kept you safe,” he added.

I scrutinized him as though I’d never seen him before. “So, you’re alone in your own head now. How does that feel?”

“It feels … empty.”

“I think that’s normal. You’ll get used to it.” I tilted my head. “And you’re no longer doomed to die. How does that feel?”

He reached up, his arm quivering with the effort, and cupped my cheek. “It feels like I can breathe properly for the first time in a very long time.”

Tears welled in my eyes.

“Tori …” His thumb caressed my cheek. “I want to kiss you without a demon in my head.”

He was still finishing his sentence as I pushed up off the floor. I slid onto the cot beside him, pressed gently against his side, and brought my mouth to his.

We kissed, and my heart swelled in my chest until it threatened to burst from my ribs. My lungs struggled for air through the hot bubble of relief lodged inside me—the respite from the terror and grief and anguish of the past hours, days, weeks, and months.