The moon bled crimson over the ruins of Eldermere, and the only sound louder than Elara's ragged breath was the mocking chuckle of the man who had just pinned her against a crumbling pillar.
"Tsk. The mighty Silverthorn Heiress," his blade pressed into the hollow of her throat, "reduced to stealing relics like a common thief."
Elara spat blood onto his boots. "Says the bastard prince of a corpse kingdom."
Kael Arzath's grin didn't waver, but his eyes—those damned void-black eyes—flickered with something dangerous. She knew that look. It was the same one he'd worn five years ago when he'd carved the scar now throbbing down her ribs.
Then the relic between them screamed.
A pulse of violet light erupted from the amulet in Elara's grip, searing both their hands. Kael hissed, his grip loosening just enough—
Now.
She twisted, driving her knee into his stomach while slashing downward with her dagger. But Kael moved like shadow, catching her wrist and yanking her flush against him. His breath scorched her ear: "Still fighting dirty, banshee?"
The amulet shrieked again, and the ground split open beneath them.
Falling.
Elara's magic flared—a storm of silver vines erupting to cushion her crash into the underground chamber. Kael landed in a crouch beside her, already scanning for exits.
"Your little theft just trapped us in a tomb," he growled.
"Our tomb, if you don't shut up and help me—" She froze. The walls were moving. No—not walls. Bones. Thousands of skeletal fingers clawed outward, whispering in a language that made her teeth ache.
Kael swore. "Necromancer's seal. It's reacting to the amulet."
The relic was now fused to Elara's palm, its chain slithering around her arm like a live serpent. Worse? An identical mark had appeared on Kael's hand.
A voice slithered through the dark: "Two souls, one fate. Blood or bond—choose."
Then the first skeleton lunged.
Back-to-back, their weapons found rhythm—Elara's vines lashed through rotting skulls while Kael's blackfire reduced bones to ash. But for every foe they burned, three more rose.
"We'll die here," Elara panted, "because you couldn't just let me steal the damn thing."
Kael kicked a skeleton into the abyss. "You're welcome to apologize."
The amulet burned, and suddenly, she felt it—his heartbeat, frantic against her own. The bond was merging their magic.
His voice turned razor-sharp: "Don't you dare—"
Too late. She grabbed his wrist and pulled.
Silver met blackfire in an explosion that shattered the tomb—and sealed their fate.