His spine bowed, his arms tugging against the chains as a roar of pain ripped from his chest and echoed off the walls. Soot and plaster crumbled from the cracks in the wall. He growled, his eyes flashing with fury, as whatever was taking over him threatened to snuff out the very life in him.
“I said control yourself!”
He flashed his fangs at the bishop and hissed into the light. Unable to control his body’s reflexes, he thrashed against the consuming cold. Scalding heat burned on his skin as ice chopped like rapids at his insides. His limbs trembled, and his lungs convulsed.
Every breath only teased the shallow crevices of his lungs. Pain consumed him. Sweat poured into his eyes. And then everything stopped.
Cheek pressed to the cement floor, he panted. His throat wheezed, carved open from his screams and raw under his words.
“Something’s ... wrong.”
His larynx burned, but not as much as his fury when the bishop merely tipped his head and watched him with flat eyes, devoid of empathy.
“Does your soul suffer for her?” There was genuine curiosity in his even tone.
Cain panted through the spiking discomfort, his tongue licking over his dry lips. He wanted to explain the unbearable pain, the sense of death swallowing him whole, but his body was too weak. Face pinching with shame and agony, he softly wept.
Cain felt the bishop’s presence in his mind as he spoke. “Do you truly believe you were called to her, a human destined for your twin? It’s impossible. Your delusions have cost you your life, I’m afraid.”
He was already dying. It didn’t make sense. He had his mother’s and sister’s blood. His wounds on the outside had healed. Yet something inside of him syphoned his strength, as if pulling his life through a funnel and leaving only the husk of his body behind.
“Did you honestly believe you had a claim to her?”
“I don’t...” He panted, the sharp stab of pain stealing his breath. “...know.”
He jerked as another rush of adrenaline stabbed through him. His muscles locked, jolting his spine forward as he bowed against the unforgiving ground. The bolts jostled in the wall as his body thrust against the chains.
“Enough!”
His bones screamed as his body slackened and he collapsed. Grit stuck to his face, blood seeping from the corner of his eye.
The sense of his insides popping with little bursts of pain and his veins reconstructing brought excruciating agony. It was as if he were being reborn, torn apart thread by thread, only to be sewn back together again. But it was killing him.
A shiver ripped through him as understanding dawned. The pain was not his own, but hers.
How?
His fingers, which felt broken and severed, twitched at his back. His lungs, which burned with fire, heaved in his chest. And the blood he tasted...
As another wave of agony tore through him, he accepted that it was her life being siphoned away and her pain calling to him. The bonding had begun, and from the other side, he could only feel her pain. Just as she had known his anger and frustration, he was losing her. Adam was stealing her presence from his soul. Taking away her gentle light until nothing but darkness filled him.
He had nothing left of her. She was gone. All but her pain.
If her light died inside of him, what would become of him in the end?
“What’s ... happening ... to me?” he begged, desperate for the bishop’s knowledge.
“You’re weak from the earlier altercation.”
His weakness had nothing to do with the fight. His injuries had healed. This fresh agony was beyond anything his brother had done. “This is ... different.”
The Bishop stepped closer, his mind probing Cain’s. “You’re fine.”
“Something’s happening!”
“Genunk! The bonding has begun and your fate is sealed. You must relent this obsession and save the last of your dignity to face the Council.”
“I can feel her pai—”
His muscles locked and his head flung back, his mind swallowed by torment and his thoughts and words cauterized at the stem of his brain. He thrashed as his mouth filled with blood. His stomach convulsed, spewing red.
The chains ripped from the wall and he lunged at the bars, eyes wild and fangs dripping. “Release me!”
The Bishop’s eyes widened, a haunted expression draining the blood from his face. “You’re feeish.”
Cain roared and yanked at the bars. “Now! She’s dying!”
Bishop King’s hand flicked the air, sending Cain propelling backward. Impotent fury screamed out of him as his grip wrenched from the bars.
“No, you bastard! She’s going to die if you don’t let me go to her! Hesslich—”
Pain seared into his skull and he dropped to his knees, screaming as he gripped his temples. His face contorted as he collapsed to his side, writhing in agony. The Bishop held out his palm, commanding the pain, dropping all pretenses of patience.