Chapter 2 A Life for a Life
A moment later, light radiated from his body, pouring from his wings and illuminating the room, brighter than any electric bulb could ever be.
Dione raised a hand against the glare. When she dared look again, his wings had stretched to their full breadth. They were way larger than she'd imagined, vast enough to make the room seem too small to contain him.
The air changed when he flexed them, sending goosebumps racing across her skin. The curtains stirred despite the closed windows, and loose strands of Dione's hair lifted around her face.
Gradually, the light dimmed to a bearable glow.
As the towering angel came toward her, she stumbled back a step, but he continued until he was only an inch away.
"If you want your sister to live," he said, bending until their eyes met, "kneel."
Almost on cue, Dahlia let out a weak whimper behind her.
Dione looked toward the bed.
Her sister's face had contorted in pain, a moan leaving her lips.
That was all it took.
Scared that her sister would slip away at any moment, Dione dropped to both knees.
Ephemiel watched in satisfaction before waving a hand dismissively toward her.
"Now, we may speak of bargains."
Finally. Dione thought.
"You want your sister's life restored," Ephemiel said.
"Yes."
"Do you understand what you are agreeing to by offering yourself to me?"
"I do." She squeaked.
"No." His voice hardened. "You do not."
Ephemiel's serious green eyes bore into hers. "Service to me is no child's play. When I call, you will come. When I command, you will obey."
The air seemed to grow colder as he spoke, and Dione wrapped her arms around herself.
"Whether it be in darkness or daylight, in comfort or peril. Even if what I ask of you…" His gaze sharpened. "terrifies you."
She gulped and nodded. "I'll do it."
"Will you?" He stepped closer again. "Or will you attempt to flee, as mortals often do, believing you can outrun what you've invoked?"
Dione wanted to curse at him. Was he going to help her or not?
This constant circling, this arrogance… it was all exhausting.
Dahlia didn't have much time left.
"I won't run from what I owe," Dione said, her voice firm with urgency.
"There will come a day," Ephemiel continued, "when you will curse the promise you make this night. When you will wish you had let your sister die."
He leaned in, his cool breath brushing her cheek. "And when that day comes, you will pray to every god in existence, that I forget you."
His eyes hardened. "I will not."
A shiver ran through Dione.
What had she expected by offering herself, and by extension, her life to a Fallen?
And not just any Fallen… their master?
Dahlia must live. That's all that mattered.
"Knowing the price, would you still give yourself to me?" Ephemiel asked.
"I would," Dione answered.
"Very well." The Fallen straightened. "For one so puny, you are remarkably bold."
"My sister must live," Dione whispered.
"Give me your hand, mortal."
She extended it.
Ephemiel took her wrist, turning her palm upward. His fingers were cool against her skin, and the contrast made her shiver.
"Now," he said, "you will bind yourself to me. Repeat the words I give you exactly. Speak them with intent, mortal, or the pact will not take."
Dione's heart thundered.
"Once spoken, these words may never be withdrawn," Ephemiel said.
She swallowed hard before nodding.
"And once agreed…"
He lifted her chin with a single finger.
"…they may never be undone."
Dione stared into his eyes.
For a second, she wondered whether she should stop.
Perhaps she could find another answer. Another doctor. Another treatment. Another miracle.
Then Dahlia's labored breathing reached her ears.
No.
There was no other answer.
Ephemiel began the ancient vow, binding her life, her will, and her service to him. Dione repeated each sentence after him, her voice growing more nervous with every word.
The air in the room had grown charged with something that felt older than lightning itself.
"...my loyalty is yours in this realm and beyond it, until you choose to release me or the last star falls from the heavens."
Dione repeated the final words, and the instant they left her lips, the atmosphere changed.
The flames of the candles surged violently, stretching toward the ceiling.
The chalk lines around them began to glow, and something moved beneath Dione's skin.
"It is done." Ephemiel declared.
Immediately, fire burned across her skin.
Dione gasped, looking down in horror and awe as a glowing sigil etched itself into her wrist.
The pain lasted only seconds.
Dione stared at the mark, unable to breathe.
There was no going back now. She was bound to him.
Ephemiel released her, clasping his hands behind him.
"When the sigil burns, you will come." He said, stepping back. "It will warn you first by reappearing on your wrist."
Dione hung on to every word.
"You will have sufficient time to flee whatever company you keep and find somewhere private. Run to wherever you can disappear without drawing attention."
His gaze hardened.
"Ignore it, and I will drag you through the veil myself, whether anyone witnesses it or not."
A cruel smile touched his mouth.
"And when I am finished with you, I will return you to the exact place you were taken from."
His eyes held hers.
"Or not."
A chill passed through her.
"That will depend on how well you please me."
He turned to Dahlia and snapped his fingers.
She gasped aloud, her body jerking once against the mattress, like life itself had suddenly been forced back into her.
Then she went still.
"Your sister is healed," Ephemiel said, his gaze returning to Dione.
She looked at him, hardly daring to believe what she'd just heard.
"And now, you are mine."
Then he vanished.
Dione stared at the space he had left behind.
For a few seconds, she didn't move.
Then she ran.
She rushed to her sister's side and dropped beside the bed.
Dahlia lay as she had moments ago, but the change was already happening.
The deep, horrid lines of pain that had etched themselves into her face for months were smoothing away, and her breathing, once shallow and labored, was now steady.
Colour slowly returned to her cheeks.
Dione slowly moved her hand down to Dahlia's arm, then stopped, suddenly afraid that if she touched her too firmly, the miracle would disappear.
But Dahlia remained still, sleeping peacefully for the first time in months.
She was alive.
She was healed.
The rare and relentlessly aggressive Gorham-Stout disease that had been devouring Dahlia from the inside, slowly dissolving her bones from within, was simply gone.
A broken laugh escaped Dione's lips. "Dahlia..." She whispered, tears of happiness and disbelief running down her cheeks.
It had worked.
It had actually worked.
And then the reality of the sigil burning on her wrist sank in.
Her laughter died.
Dione stared at the mark—the representation of the promise she'd made to the ancient being who had just claimed her life as his own.
"Oh, shit," she whispered, pressing her palms against her eyes. "What the fuck have I done?"
