“You won’t be able to break them. The [Necromancer] cast the binding spells to keep me here. He was unable to turn me to his will by spell or pain, yet he could hold me. I cannot break free. You cannot. Stop pretending. Stop acting.”

Dalius watched with bleak pleasure as Cara felt at her numb hand, feeling pain as it came back to life.

The ghost looked at Cara bitterly.

“If you had an enchanted blade, I would ask you to slay me rather than let myself be used again. But you can do nothing. Leave me and go, liar.”

He closed his eyes. If he didn’t watch her, she had no power over him.

Cara hesitated. She felt a terrifying deadness in her hands, as if she had lost all blood flow to her limbs. A tingling of life as it faded. Every instinct in her told her not to touch the strands.

The [Singer] looked around. At this dead place. At her torn clothes. She saw the walls of Afiele falling.

The dead.

Even Dalius was ignoring her. There was no one to pretend to be. No reward or consequences to dodge.

Just this.

An impossible task. Chains a great [Knight] of old could not break. The young woman stared at them. No rational soul would try.

So she grabbed for the magic strands again. She cried out as the deadness ran up her arms but tried to pull. It was impossible. It was like trying to bend steel columns with her bare hands. But she tried.

A sly, mocking eye opened. So subtly she didn’t see. The ghost watched her. She’d give up once she realized he wasn’t watching. She was no fool. Of all the things he had liked and hated about her in the short time they had stood together, she was no fool. Cara did nothing without reason, took no risks without success.

Let go. You will never break those bindings.

You are no [Paladin] of old, no hero.

You don’t believe in them.

She knew that too. So why…Dalius’ other eye opened.

He saw the pallor of her skin turn dead white. It raced up her arms; he saw the color drain from her skin, as if her blood itself was losing its vigor. Cara’s eyes were opened wide. At first, she clenched her teeth.

Then she began to twitch uncontrollably.

A moan of pain escaped her lips.

It became a cry in a second. Then grew louder. Until it was a scream. Not from pain alone. It felt like dying, but she pulled, her life fighting the deathly magic.

A second. Ten seconds. Dalius’ head rose. Cara’s arms were shaking. She was twitching uncontrollably.

Her cry of pain—he snapped.

“Enough. You will die. You cannot free me. I cannot free myself. We are damned.”