Finally, she reclaimed their first home together—the castle atop the hill—and chased the humans away. The decaying undercroft where no one ventured had become their haven.
It was here that she built a new sanctum where she could summon Malachi daily without fear of discovery. Sometimes, like today, her prayers were met with silence. Other times, with an audience. Malachi would arrive in his corporeal form to order her to be patient, for her day with Elijah would come. He had sent her on odd missions that she could not make sense of and was told not to question—part of a web of schemes he was concocting, surely. Occasionally, he would demand she undress and offer herself to him on the altar, so he could use her in ways that made her body and heart ache for different reasons. Those visits were growing more frequent as of late, the requirements bolder.
After three centuries, Sofie no longer believed Malachi had any intention of granting her husband his freedom.
She smiled sadly as she stroked her fingers across Elijah’s cheek. He was as handsome now as the day Malachi took him from her. It was callous to preserve him so impeccably. It would have been easier on her had nothing remained of him but dust and bone. That was what the fates dealt, though—cruel tricks for even the most loyal.
“Forgive me, my love.” She gripped the smooth obsidian bone handle of the dagger, allowing the fire’s light to flicker off the sacred metallic blade. She was not certain the wound she was about to inflict upon Elijah would free him from this curse, but she knew it would release her from hers—the curse of eternal anguish.
“May the fates be merciful,” she whispered, knowing they would not. She brought the tip of the blade to Elijah’s chest, gathering the courage to drive it through his flesh.
A glimmer caught the metal, stalling her hand. Again it flashed, hinting at movement, and the sound of scraping against stone followed. Rodents lived in these walls and felines hunted them, but she did not sense their heartbeats, and besides, none made such a noise.
Sofie’s pulse raced as the glow blossomed within the vault, illuminating the cracks in the stone ceiling and walls with warm, flickering light. Dropping the dagger, she climbed to her knees.
Her mouth dropped in awe at the looming silhouette in the center of the dank vault, his majestic horns alight with flame. She had laid eyes upon him countless times, but never like this.
“The time has come,” Malachi’s deep voice rumbled. “Are you my loyal servant?”
She scrambled out of the coffin to drop to her knees and press her forehead to the ground before the Fate of Fire. “For eternity.” To bring Elijah back, she would do whatever was asked of her.