Chapter 18 · Thirteen Dead Maras

"Kill him before the next bell or you all die."

Ian's mouth moved, but the voice wasn't his. It was too old. Too flat. "Kill Cael Rook."

Cael's hand locked around my wrist before I could even flinch. His fingers were ice. His breath hit my cheek, hot and frantic.

"Don't listen to it," he snapped. "Mara, look at me. Not at that thing."

"That's my brother!" I yanked against him. He didn't budge. "Ian! Hey! Talk to me—that's you in there, right?"

The boy on the altar smiled. Same freckles. Same chipped front tooth. Wrong eyes.

"He can't hear you anymore," the thing said. "But you heard me. Kill him. One knife. Thirteen minutes."

"Shut up!" Cael snarled. He shoved me behind him, blade already up. His other hand was shaking so hard the steel rattled. "Seline, call it off."

Seline Orr didn't even blink. She stood by the great bell, hands folded like she was at a prayer meeting. "I didn't tell it to say that, Commander. The bell did. The old consciousness is choosing. Isn't that fascinating?"

"You put him in there," I spat, my voice cracking.