Elara's POV
We're falling through darkness.
Not regular darkness—the kind where you can still see shapes if you wait for your eyes to adjust. This is absolute, suffocating darkness that feels alive. It wraps around us like cold hands, pulling us deeper and deeper into nothing.
I can't see Azrael, but I can feel him. The life-binding spell connects us like an invisible thread, letting me sense his heartbeat, his pain, his fear. His arms are locked around me, holding me against his chest as we tumble through the void.
"Where are we?" I shout, but my voice is swallowed by the darkness. No echo. No sound. Like the void is eating everything.
Azrael's grip tightens. I feel his answer more than hear it: Between realms. The space that shouldn't exist.
Then we hit something solid.
The impact knocks the air from my lungs. We roll across rough ground, finally stopping in a tangled heap of limbs and wings. For a moment, I just lie there, gasping, my whole body aching.
Slowly, light filters in. Not sunlight—something dimmer, stranger, with a purple tint that makes everything look wrong. I push myself up and immediately wish I hadn't.
We're in a nightmare.
The landscape around us is twisted and broken. Trees grow upside down, their roots reaching toward a sky that swirls with colors that shouldn't exist. The ground is made of black glass that reflects things that aren't there. In the distance, I see ruins of buildings that seem to phase in and out of reality.
"What is this place?" I whisper.
"The Void Between," Azrael says, struggling to his feet. He sways, catching himself against an upside-down tree trunk. Blood seeps through his armor from wounds that reopened during our fall. "It's where reality breaks down. The space between Heaven, Earth, and Hell."
"Is it safe?"
He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Nothing about this place is safe. But the hunters can't track us here. Celestial magic doesn't work the same way."
As if to prove his point, something howls in the distance. Not a wolf or dog—something that sounds like it's made of broken glass and screaming.
My blood runs cold. "What was that?"
"Void creature. This place is full of them." Azrael takes a step and nearly collapses. I catch him, and the moment I touch his skin, I feel it through our bond—he's burning up. Fever. The curse is getting worse.
"You need healing," I say. "Now."
"No time. We need to find shelter before—"
Another howl, much closer. Then another. And another.
"Before that," Azrael finishes grimly.
Through the purple twilight, I see them. Three creatures that look like wolves made of shadow and bone, their eyes glowing red, their teeth too long and too sharp. They move wrong, like reality can't quite hold them in place.
Azrael pushes me behind him, but he can barely stand. His sword is gone, lost somewhere during our escape. He's defenseless.
The life-binding spell pulses between us. If these things kill him, I die too.
The lead creature lunges.
Azrael's hand shoots out, and shadows explode from his palm—the same demonic power he used to create the portal. The blast catches the creature mid-air and tears it apart.
But the effort makes him stagger. Blood drips from his nose. Using that power is killing him as surely as the curse.
The other two creatures circle us, snarling.
I don't think. I just act.
My hands ignite with healing light—except it's not pure divine light anymore. It's mixed with something darker, corrupted by the blood magic I've been using. The light pulses gold and black, beautiful and terrifying.
I throw it at the nearest creature.
The blast hits it square in the chest and the creature screams. Not in pain—in fear. It turns and runs, disappearing into the twisted landscape.
The third creature takes one look at my hands and flees too.
Silence falls, broken only by our ragged breathing.
"What was that?" Azrael asks, staring at my still-glowing hands.
"I don't know." I stare at them too, watching the gold and black light swirl together. "My healing magic is changing. Ever since I used blood magic to save you, it's been different. Corrupted."
"That wasn't corruption." Azrael's voice is soft. "That was power. Real power. The kind Heaven fears."
Before I can respond, his legs give out. I catch him, but his weight pulls us both down. We collapse onto the black glass ground, his head in my lap.
His skin is on fire. The curse spreading through his veins glows like poison beneath his skin, dark lines creeping toward his heart.
"I need to heal you," I say desperately. "The curse is winning."
"No." His hand catches my wrist. "Save your strength. You'll need it to survive this place."
"If you die, I die. Remember?" I touch his face, feeling the fever burning through him. "We're bound now. Your life is mine, and mine is yours."
Something flickers in his silver-gold eyes. "Why did you do that? Bind us together? You barely knew me."
"Because they would have killed you otherwise. And I..." I trail off, not sure how to explain. "I couldn't let that happen."
"Even though I'm half-demon?" His voice is bitter. "Even though I'm exactly the kind of creature you were taught to fear?"
"You saved me too," I say quietly. "You could have left me to face the hunters alone, but you pulled me through that portal with you. You protected me."
His hand covers mine on his cheek. "I spent centuries killing people like you. Following orders. Never questioning. How can you not hate me?"
"Because you're different now." I feel the truth of it through our bond. "You're choosing differently. That's what matters."
Azrael's eyes drift closed. "Elara, if I don't make it—"
"You're making it. I won't let you die."
"The curse is too strong—"
"Then I'll break it." I place both hands on his chest, feeling the dark magic Raphael wove into him. It's wrapped around his heart like thorns, squeezing tighter with every beat. "I'll use blood magic again if I have to."
"That will corrupt you more."
"I don't care."
"You should." His hand catches mine again. "Every time you use blood magic, you lose a piece of your soul. Eventually, there'll be nothing left of the person you were."
"Then we'll figure out another way." I lean down, my forehead touching his. "But I'm not giving up on you. Not now. Not ever."
Through our bond, I feel his emotions—surprise, gratitude, something deeper that neither of us is ready to name.
Then his eyes snap open, suddenly alert. "Elara. Don't move."
"What—"
"Behind you. Don't. Move."
Slowly, carefully, I turn my head.
Standing ten feet away is a woman. At least, she looks like a woman. Beautiful, with long silver hair and eyes that swirl with purple galaxies. She's wearing a dress made of shadows that shift and flow like water.
But there's something wrong about her. Something that makes my instincts scream danger.
She smiles, revealing teeth that are just slightly too sharp.
"Well, well," she purrs, her voice like honey and poison mixed together. "What do we have here? A fallen healer and a half-demon Seraph, bound together by blood magic. How absolutely delicious."
"Who are you?" I demand, moving to shield Azrael.
"Oh, darling. I'm hurt you don't recognize me." She takes a step closer, and reality seems to bend around her. "I've been watching you both for a very long time. Waiting for you to arrive in my domain."
"Your domain?"
Her smile widens. "Welcome to my home, little healer. I am Morgana Blackwater, Queen of the Void Between. And you two just became very, very interesting to me."
She snaps her fingers.
The ground beneath us turns liquid. We're falling again, but this time into something that feels like ice and fire at the same time.
Azrael's hand finds mine as we plummet into darkness.
And the last thing I hear is Morgana's laughter echoing all around us: "Let's see if you survive the test, shall we?"