Chapter 20 · The Third Name

"Don't let it take me!" I shouted as the hand wearing Marcus's ring burst through the rift and clamped around my ankle.

Its fingers were too cold. Not winter-cold. Dead-cold.

I hit the stone floor hard, palms scraping against the black frost spreading beneath me. The rift hung above the altar like a torn wound, its edges twisting and snapping. Beyond it, I could see Marcus's face—or what was left of it.

His eyes were empty.

His mouth stretched into a grin that wasn't his.

"Seraphina!" Calian's voice cracked across the chamber. "Look at me. Not him. Look at me!"

I twisted toward him.

He stood on the other side of the rift, one hand pressed against the air between us. Blood ran from his nose and streaked his mouth. His shoulders shook, but he kept the tear from widening.

The rift answered with a low, grinding sound.

Marcus's hand dragged me another inch.

"Calian, it has me!"

"I can see that. Stop pulling against it."

"That is your advice?"

"Yes. Stop making this harder."

"You try being dragged into a hole by your former fiancé's corpse!"

His jaw tightened. "I said stop pulling.