Dust choked my throat as I slammed my palms against the massive stone wall. On the other side, a wet, sickening thud echoed through the chamber, followed by a choked gasp that made my chest constrict. "Xime!" I screamed, my voice cracking under the weight of a sudden, blinding panic. Silence answered. Only the low, hungry hum of the Twilight Void vibrated through the floorboards, mocking me. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped beast, every instinct screaming at me to reach him. Furious dark magic bubbled beneath my skin, raw and erratic from the freezing cold of my cell. I pressed harder against the ancient stone, forcing the shadows to pool around my fingertips. They didn't want to bend to my will; they were sluggish, frozen by the creeping rot of this cursed place. "Do not dare die over there," I growled, digging my nails into the microscopic fissures of the rock. If he died, the light died. If he died, I was completely alone in this miserable twilight, trapped with nothing but the ghosts of my own failures. Memories of our journey flashed through my mind, brilliant and intrusive. The way he laughed at my dark brooding, the warmth of his hand when our powers first clicked, the sudden, fierce heat of his lips against mine. I couldn't let it end here, in a dusty, forgotten dungeon. Desperation flared, hot and sharp, igniting the cold core of my power. I pushed my hands directly into the solid stone, demanding the shadows warp the physical matter. Pain flared instantly, a white-hot agony that ripped through my fingers as the rock resisted the magical displacement. Flesh tore. Blood, dark and thick, smeared across the grey stone as my hands sank deeper into the solid wall. I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached, refusing to let the scream escape my throat. I couldn't stop. I couldn't let a few inches of rock stand between me and his survival. Slowly, the shadows began to chew through the molecular density of the barrier. I twisted my wrists, forcing the dark essence to widen the microscopic pathways. Skin grated against jagged stone, peeling back from my knuckles, but I barely felt it. Another low groan drifted through the stone, weaker this time, a fading ember. "Hold on!" I roared, throwing my entire weight forward into the shifting, shadowy rift I was tearing open. Void magic swallowed my arms, dragging me into the suffocating pressure of the stone. For a terrifying second, I was suspended in solid rock, my lungs crushed, my vision entirely black. Spitting blood and dust, I lunged through the magical tear, my body screaming in protest as the physical world reasserted itself. I tumbled onto the hard floor of the adjacent chamber, rolling to my feet with my daggers already drawn. Only horror waited for me. Xime lay pinned to the center of the dark stone floor. A massive, jagged stone spear protruded from his chest, anchoring him to the ground like a broken butterfly. Obsidian stone formed the spear, pulsing with a foul, purple-black energy that made my stomach turn. It had driven straight through his chest, pinning his broad shoulders to the cold flags. Blood pooled around him, a glowing halo of liquid gold that was slowly being absorbed by the thirsty, corrupt stone. Golden light, brilliant and warm, pulsed weakly from the edges of the wound. It bled out in thick, shimmering rivulets, staining the dark floor before the hungry stone swallowed it whole. The Void was drinking him alive, consuming his light with a terrible, insatiable hunger. My twin daggers slipped from my bloody fingers, clattering uselessly against the stone. I dropped to my knees beside him, my knees slamming hard against the cold floor. "Xime," I breathed, my hands hovering over his chest, trembling so violently I could barely control them. His eyes, usually bright as a summer sky, were clouded and unfocused. Pale skin showed through the tears in his white tunic, his chest rising in shallow, agonizing hitches. "Onyx..." he whispered, a thin line of golden blood escaping the corner of his mouth. "Shut up. Don't talk," I ordered, my voice dropping to a harsh, desperate whisper. I slid my arms beneath his shoulders, lifting his upper body slightly to cradle him against my chest. He felt so small in my arms, a stark contrast to the arrogant, sun-kissed warrior who usually filled a room with his presence. The heat that normally radiated from him was almost gone, replaced by a terrifying chill that seeped into my bones. Never had I felt this kind of terror. It was a physical weight, crushing my lungs, making it impossible to think clearly. I couldn't lose him—not to this rot, not to this godforsaken twilight. "Look at me, Xime. Keep your eyes on me," I commanded, pressing my torn, bleeding palms directly over the entry wound. He winced, his fingers weakly clutching at my forearms, his grip lacking all of its usual strength. Thick, golden blood welled up between my fingers, warm and sticky. It mixed with the cold, dark blood dripping from my own ruined hands. I closed my eyes, reaching deep into the dark reservoir of my soul. "We need to stop the bleeding," I muttered, more to myself than to him. Shadows flowed from my split knuckles, not as a weapon, but as a desperate, delicate tool. I forced the dark magic to condense, spinning it into ultra-fine, needle-sharp threads of pure darkness. "This is going to hurt," I muttered, my jaw clenching as I began the delicate work. I guided the shadow-threads through his skin, pulling the severed edges of his golden flesh together. Each pass of the shadow-needle felt like dragging a burning wire through my own veins. The magic resisted, his light fighting my darkness even in his semi-conscious state. I had to force my will over his, bending his fading light to accept the dark thread. "Fight it," I whispered to him, my voice cracking. "Fight me, you bastard, just don't die." "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I whispered, a rare apology slipping past my lips as I worked faster. My shadow-essence acted as a physical suture, binding the ruined tissue, fighting the hungry twilight that sought to dissolve his light. Darkness of my magic clashed violently with his radiant blood, hissing and popping like water on hot grease. The physical strain was immense, my vision blurring at the edges as my own energy drained rapidly. Sweat beaded on my forehead, dripping down my nose as I focused every ounce of my fading strength. I tied off the first set of sutures, only for another tear to open deeper within his chest cavity. Stone spear hummed, actively radiating a corruptive energy that dissolved my shadow-threads as fast as I could weave them. The weapon was a channel for the Void, eating away his life from the inside out. "No, no, no," I hissed, my chest heaving. The golden light was fading, the rhythm of his heart stuttering beneath my palms. His eyes closed, his long eyelashes casting faint shadows on his deathly pale cheeks. "Xime! Open your eyes!" I roared, shaking him gently. His head rolled limply against my shoulder, his breathing slowing to a terrifying, sporadic rattle. Sutures were failing; the physical damage was too severe, the twilight poison spreading too fast through his veins. My shadows couldn't hold him together anymore. Cold dread settled deep in my gut, heavier than any shadow I had ever wielded. I knew what I had to do, but the very thought of it sent a shudder of primal fear through my spine. Usually, we synchronized to share power, blending light and dark to decimate our enemies. But a reverse-synch was a myth, a forbidden technique whispered by the elders of the shadow clan. Fear screamed at me to run, to protect myself, to preserve my own life. My core wound, the ancient betrayal that dictated every cold decision I had ever made, flared in protest. During the Great Eclipse, those I trusted had left me to die in the dark, teaching me that vulnerability was a death sentence. If I let Xime in this deeply, he could destroy me from the inside out. Looking down at his beautiful, pale face, the stubborn curve of his jaw now slack and lifeless, the whispers of my past died. I didn't care about the risk anymore. I couldn't live in a world where his light was extinguished. "Don't you dare leave me," I whispered, leaning down until my forehead rested against his damp temple. I gripped his shoulders, ignoring the stinging pain in my own torn palms. "Take it," I snarled into the empty chamber, commanding my magic to act. I reached into the core of his wound, grabbing hold of the golden, agonizing threads of his fading life force. With a violent tug of my own spirit, I initiated the reverse-synch. Instantly, a wave of pure, unadulterated agony slammed into my chest. It felt as if a physical spear of white-hot iron was being driven slowly through my sternum, splintering my ribs one by one. My vision went white, the sheer force of his mortal pain tearing a guttural, shattered scream from my throat. Golden cracks, brilliant and burning, began to web outward from my chest, spider-webbing across my collarbones and up my neck.

Chapter 17: The Golden Thread