Calavera stood before Annie like a high priestess at the altar of something ancient and terrible. In one fluid motion, she raised her hand, and sliced a clean, deliberate line across her palm with a dagger carved from polished bone and obsidian.
Thick, black blood welled from the wound.
Malvor moved instinctively, a snarl forming, until Annie reached for him without looking. Just a slight touch to his arm. Steady.
She was ready.
Calavera stepped forward and placed her bleeding hand directly over the glowing glyph on Annie's back, her marks.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Annie's body arched with a strangled gasp, her back snapping like a bow string. Her knees buckled. Magic flooded her veins like molten starlight, and grief spun into flame.
The rune flared.
And then it burned.
Not like fire.
Like loss.
It tore through her as if it were unraveling every scar, every memory, every locked-away howl in her soul. Her scream ripped free, raw, unfiltered, teeth-gritted agony that echoed through the marble and bone of Calavera's throne room.
She collapsed to her knees, then kept falling.
Malvor caught her.
"Annie, Annie!"
Her eyes fluttered, unfocused, then rolled back.
She passed out.
The glyph continued to glow, pulsing with cruel rhythm, relentless and divine.
Then, she gasped, came back.
And screamed again.
She writhed in his arms, trembling so violently it rattled his teeth. Her body convulsed, her breath hitching in ragged gulps as the magic tore her apart from the inside out.
"Make it stop!" she choked, eyes wide, wild, glassy.
Malvor's arms were already around her, cradling her face in his palms, his thumbs stroking just beneath her eyes.
"Look at me! Annie, look at me!"
She could not.
Her body shuddered.
She passed out again.
"No! No, come back, please," he whispered, pulling her tighter. "Stay with me, Annie. Just Annie. I've got you. Come on, Fire Heart, don't let her win. Don't let the pain take you. You've survived worse. This, this is just another flame to walk through."
The bond between them flared like a lifeline, magic bleeding between souls, and still, she trembled, caught between worlds and pain.
"Share it," he whispered hoarsely. "You don't have to hold it all alone! You are not alone! Not this time!"
"Annie, please! Give it to me! Let me carry it with you."
And she did.
Without meaning to, without knowing how, she let the bond open just a crack.
And he felt it.
All of it.
Every screaming nerve. Every echoing cry buried in her blood. Every ounce of divine fire clawing through her like a storm made of everything she had ever lost.
Malvor gritted his teeth, tears springing to his eyes, but he held her tighter.
She did not scream again.
She just burned.
Until the glyph pulsed one final time—
And went still.
The light faded.
Her body crumpled against his chest, breath heaving, skin slick with sweat.
For a moment, he thought she was gone.
Her weight sagged like surrender, and his own breath caught in his throat, a second of pure terror freezing his chest.
Then—
A breath. Shallow, but there. Another.
He exhaled like it hurt.
She was here.
Still here.
And so was he.
The bond between them throbbed low and slow now, like a second heartbeat. Faint. Fragile. But alive.
He clung to it.
Not as a god. Not as her keeper.
But as a man.
A man who had nearly lost the one thing he hadn't realized he couldn't bear to lose.
He brushed her hair from her face, kissed her temple, and held her like she was the only thing anchoring him to the world.
"I've got you," he whispered again, his voice breaking. "I've always got you. I am here."
The absolute silence that followed was thick, almost sacred. Malvor did not move. Did not speak. He just held her, arms locked around her trembling body like she might vanish if he let go. Her skin was cold despite the sweat, her breath shallow, every rise and fall of her chest a victory.
Annie stirred faintly. Her fingers twitched against his coat, and a small, pained sound escaped her lips. Not a scream. Not a word. Just a noise, human and raw.
He bowed his head, forehead pressing to hers.
"You're okay. You're okay," he murmured, like if he said it enough times, the world would believe it. Like he would believe it.
Her eyelashes fluttered against his cheek. "Hurts," she whispered, so soft he almost missed it.
"I know. I am so sorry, Annie."
She tried to say more, but the words died in her throat. Instead, her fingers curled tighter into his collar. He kissed the corner of her mouth, barely there, afraid to push, to hurt her more, but needing to anchor her somehow.
"I'm here," he said again. "I will always be here."
The glow from her back was dimming, the heat fading, but her skin still radiated a strange energy, like the air around her was charged with something ancient.
He hated it.
Not the power.
But what it took.
If this was the cost of divinity, he'd burn down every temple before letting her pay it again.
"Never again," he whispered to the empty air. "Not like this. I don't care what the runes demand. I don't care what it takes."
He closed his eyes.
"You are not a vessel. You are not their symbol. You are Annie. And I will not let them take that from you!"
Annie was barely conscious, her head resting against Malvor's shoulder, breath shallow, body trembling from the aftershocks of the activation. The room smelled of magic, old and burning, like ash scattered across memory.
Malvor held her close, his fingers tangled in her damp hair, his jaw tight.
Then—
A soft hum pulsed through the air.
Malvor looked up.
Behind them, Annie's back lit up like a night sky set ablaze.
Her entire back, Calavera's glyph, had ignited. From the nape of her neck to the base of her spine, the carved lines of death magic shimmered in silver blue, as if starlight had been etched into her skin and awakened all at once.
Calavera moved slowly, her long sleeves brushing the air as she stepped behind Annie and studied her handiwork.
Her breath caught, just slightly. A twitch of something deep. It was not pride. Not sorrow.
It was reverence.
"Congratulations, you have taken your first step into divinity," she said softly.
Malvor flinched.
Annie, still barely upright, blinked at the words, dazed.
"You are immortal now," Calavera continued. "But do not confuse that with invincibility. Mortal death cannot touch you anymore. Time cannot claim you. But the divine still can."
Malvor's arms tightened around her instinctively.
"She is not fighting your wars," he said.
Calavera gave him a glance. "She is the war, whether she chooses to be or not."
Then her voice lowered into something darker. "And be warned, each glyph you awaken chips away at what remains of your humanity."
Annie's brow furrowed weakly, still catching her breath.
"You will feel it," Calavera murmured. "Eventually. You will feel less hunger. Less fear. Less… attachment. The gods are not heartless by nature, child. But by inevitability."