The Herald's presence crushed against my mind like an invisible weight, each of its words seeping into my thoughts like ice water. I could feel my fingers loosening around Grandmother's stone, my will draining away.
*Surrender the Star-Key, Isabella. Accept the silence.*
Why was I fighting? The Herald's logic was devastatingly sound. Even if we succeeded, eventually everything would end. Stars would burn out. Planets would freeze. Life would cease.
Maybe peace in oblivion was kinder than the slow death of the universe.
My hand trembled as I began to lift the stone from around my neck.
"Princess!" Lysander's voice sounded distant, underwater. "Fight it!"
But I couldn't remember why I should fight. The crushing weight of futility pressed down, smothering my resistance. What was the point of struggling when silence was the final destination for all things?
*Yes,* the Herald's voice caressed my mind. *You understand. Give me the Key, and find peace.*
