“If I accept this, and let your spirits go, what happens then?” I asked.

“You take up the mantle,” the woman said. “Guide lost souls, fight the darkness. It is a great responsibility.”

I trembled. Could I really do it? Did I even have a choice? They had been waiting ages for release. Like Ethan and I had been waiting for a savior our whole lives. My heartbeats tracked the long moments as I stared into their sad, desperate faces. One breath at a time, time slowed as I considered our situations.

I may have been thrust into this unwillingly, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t find purpose in it. I took another deep breath, and they watched me with expressions of cautious hope.

Slowly, I held out my hands to them. “I will take your burden,” I whispered. “Let me set you free.”

They clasped my hands tightly. Energy flowed between us, ancient and powerful. I cried out but didn’t let go. The light around them grew brighter until, with a burst, their spirits dissolved into glittering dust that fell upon me and sank deep within my skin.

I collapsed, breathless. Their power hummed through me, awakening something primal.

Mazarin’s voice finally echoed in my mind. “Well done, Sierra. You are growing into your destiny.”

I rose, still shaky, but a little steadier than before.

CHAPTER 3

TORIN

WARNER ESTATE

We’d barely made our way back down to the dungeon before that fucker Enzo walked in. He’d only left a few minutes ago to retrieve the magic mirror he’d given to Sierra last semester. How did he get back so fast? But to my relief, he held the thing in his hand.

Riley’s incredulous, “Already?” was interrupted by the sound of moaning coming from my father’s cot. I stalked over, feeling everyone’s stares on my back, but kept my eyes locked on the dirty, near-broken looking body of my dad. My stomach and jaw tightened when his eyes flickered open, and it was all I could do to hold back the harsh sob that rose in my throat.

He was awake. He was alive. I felt like I should say something, but my tongue weighed like a stone in my mouth.

Before I could find any words, a dark chuckle echoed from the other side of the dungeon. Heath’s uncle. That manipulative snake that had caused us all so much grief.

“Well, well. Look who finally decided to join us,” Harris sneered, straining against the magical bonds Heath had used to restrain him earlier. His cold eyes slid to the mirror in Enzo’s hand as he added, “I imagine Sierra has met a rather unfortunate fate. Pity.”

My hands clenched into fists. That smug bastard knew something. But before I could demand answers, Harris began muttering an incantation under his breath. I recognized it immediately - a curse of suffering, meant to torment its victim. Meant for my father.

But Heath was faster. With a few sharp words and a sweeping gesture, he cast a counter spell. Harris’s magic sizzled and died, neutralized before it could do any harm. We all breathed a little easier after that display of power from Heath. His considerable skills had grown even stronger lately.

Together, we reinforced the bindings on Harris to keep him contained. But we still needed the information he had about Sierra.

My father’s eyes held the same questions.

“What did Harris mean about Sierra?” Enzo demanded. “Is she in danger?”

Despite all the pent-up anger I still had toward my dad, I wanted to punch Enzo in the face for pushing him when the man was clearly weakened.

Dad motioned for Enzo to give him the mirror.

Enzo hesitated. “I spelled it to only work for her, or people who care about her. Maybe the four of us”—he glanced at Rye, Heath and me—"should try to find her.”

“If Harris could see her, I’m sure my dad can,” I snapped.

My father’s exhausted sigh seemed to come from his whole body. “There are reasons for everything. And I promise you, I do care about what happens to that young woman. Very much. I wouldn’t be here without her.”

The others’ faces mirrored my own surprise, but dad continued, “Even so, stand near me and let me look while you guys search for her. You did the binding ceremony, didn’t you?”

We nodded, and the strained lines in his face relaxed slightly.

“Tell me everything about this binding ceremony first. We must determine what she has become.”

“What she’s become?” Heath echoed.

Dad nodded. “We need to know if she’s a Reaper or a Dark One.”

I stared at my friends’ eyes, all of them as widened and confused as my own felt.

“What do you mean?” Riley asked.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” dad insisted.

We recounted all that had gone down in the graveyard, and the handfasting before.

“And she did all that willingly? She wasn’t coerced at all?” Dad asked, urgently.

“The binding was Sierra’s choice.” Heath nodded, firmly. “We performed the ritual exactly as prescribed. She bonded her soul to ours willingly.”

“You’re certain?”

I glanced away, as memories of my visit to her trailer crept into my mind. Doubt tried to convict me as I remembered how I’d woven subtle spells into Sierra’s mind, ensuring she would accept the bond rather than resist it. How I’d nudged her own desires, eliminating any doubts or fears she harbored. I had manipulated the situation, even if the end result was mutually desired.

“No, she was herself,” I finally said, not entirely meeting my father’s gaze. “The bond was what she wanted. What we all wanted.” I spoke firmly to convince him as well as myself.

He studied me for a long moment before nodding slowly. But I could tell a shadow of doubt lingered in his mind. His brow furrowed. “And she showed no signs of possession? No strange behavior?”

“Only after the ground opened, like we mentioned,” Riley said.

Dad glanced at the mirror again, frustration etched on his face as the image remained clouded. We all tried every spell we could think of that might work. My father joined in as best he could, but the effort clearly taxed his already weakened state.

The most we could see were shadowy images, which dad said were consistent with the underworld – news that nearly knocked us all down, until he assured us that he believed she was still alive.

He slumped backward onto the sofa, breathing heavily, his scarred, thin hand palm-up toward me.

“Please, take me to your mother,” he said softly. “Victoria may be able to help us, despite...” His voice trailed off, but I understood. Despite her strong ties with the Dark Ones. Despite her melancholy, despite her drinking.

I steeled myself as I helped him stand. Returning home would not be easy for either of us. But we had to try.

We arrived at my parents’ home, a large and imposing mansion nestled in Lake Forest. The gates swung open as we approached, and my heart rate increased with each passing second.

As soon as we entered the house, we were greeted by the familiar scent of alcohol and sadness. My mother was a powerful witch, but she was also deeply troubled. Her grief over dad’s death had consumed her, driving her to drown herself in drink.