The marsh stank of death.
Trees twisted from black water, their roots slick with decay. Mist clung low to the ground, thick as breath. Even the moon refused to shine here.
"This is where they test us," Damien said, his voice tight. "The gods of the old blood. The ones who created the bond. If we're unworthy—"
"We burn," Ariana finished.
He nodded once.
No more words.
They stepped together into the stone circle carved into the marsh, blood runes humming beneath their feet. The moment they crossed the line, the air fractured—like a glass mirror shattering.
Then, everything turned white.
---
Inside the trial.
Ariana blinked. She stood in a cold room—too familiar. Too wrong.
Her childhood bedroom.
The night her parents were murdered.
She was fourteen again, curled under the bed, clutching her breath as screams echoed down the hallway. Her father's last cry. Her mother's broken voice.
And then… silence.
She squeezed her eyes shut—
But this time, someone was there.
Damien.
Kneeling beside her, whispering her name.
"You shouldn't see this," she gasped.
"But I already have," he said softly. "And you're still standing."
She reached for him, sobbing.
And then the room burned away.
---
Damien's trial.
He stood alone in a cathedral of bones.
Chains hung from the ceiling, each bearing a corpse he'd killed. Hundreds. Thousands.
And at the altar—
Ariana.
Dead.
Torn open, neck mauled.
He staggered forward, roaring, until the gods' voices filled the chamber.
> "This is your path, Damien Nightshade. Every life you take… leads to her death."
> "Can you choose love over power?"
He dropped to his knees, broken.
"I already did," he whispered.
And when he opened his eyes, Ariana was there—alive, blood running from her eyes, holding his face.
"You're mine," she said. "And I'm yours."
---
They woke in each other's arms in the marsh.
The bond burned like fire beneath their skin—stronger. Unbreakable.
But they weren't alone.
Damien's eyes snapped up.
Too late.
The bone-singers fell from the trees.
Seven of them, cloaked in skin, blades made of marrow, their mouths sewn shut with soul-thread.
Xander's chosen.
Ariana stood first, fire in her veins.
"I'll handle the left."
"You take three?" Damien asked, unsheathing his twin blades.
She smiled. "I'm not your fragile girl anymore."
---
The fight was brutal.
Ariana moved like lightning, dodging the first singer's blade and slamming her boot into his chest. Blood magic erupted from her hands, flaring with the mark Damien had given her. It seared through bone and flesh.
She twisted, caught another by the neck, and crushed his larynx before he could whisper his curse.
Damien danced through his foes like death given form—silent, swift, unstoppable. His blades tore through bone, his eyes glowing with pure fury.
But the last singer didn't attack.
He simply stood.
Then whispered—
> "He knows you passed. And now… he's ready."
The singer ignited in a column of cursed flame—erasing himself before they could question him.
---
Ariana dropped to her knees, panting.
Damien pulled her into his arms, whispering her name again and again like a prayer.
"We passed," she gasped.
"Yes," he murmured. "But this was just the threshold."
She met his eyes.
"Then what's next?"
Damien's voice turned to steel.
> "We go to Hollow Bastion. We get Clara. And we end Xander."