Desperate to end it, for myself as well as them, I kick at the glass, kick as hard as I can, and when that doesn’t work, I pound with both hands. And after hurling my body against it to no avail whatsoever, I dig deep into my pocket, locate the bit of crystal Ava gave me, the small piece of cavansite that enhances intuition and psychic healing, prompts deep reflection, inspires new ideas, helps rid oneself of faulty beliefs, and aids in inducing the memories of one’s prior lives, hoping it can help me here as well. And when my hand lights up, when my palm heals, when my skin emits that brilliant golden-flecked purple hue I glimpsed earlier, I know exactly what to do.

I take the sharp edge, the jagged tip that narrows to a point, and drag it vertically down one side of the glass, then horizontally across the top, and then vertically down the other, cringing at the high-pitched, squeaky, nails-on-a-chalkboard, wince-inducing kind of sound that results, but knowing I’ve succeeded when the prison collapses, shatters onto itself, and a cool blast of air whizzes by as the trapped soul rushes out.

My heart hammers hard in my chest as the entity hovers before me, growing, stretching into a varying collection of personas—a full array of prior-life guises, none of which I recognize. Emitting a bright flash of color as it shrinks down into itself once again and takes flight, soaring high into the sky, quickly disappearing from sight.

I pause to catch my breath, amazed by what I just witnessed, what I’ve just succeeded in doing, then I head to the next cube and repeat the sequence again, and then again. Releasing one trapped soul after another, having no idea where they go, but figuring anywhere’s got to be better than here.

And then, just as I move for the next, I find him.

Damen.

Though it’s not at all like I thought, not at all like I expected.

Rather than being trapped like I feared, he also wanders from block to block.

His hair wildly mussed, his eyes haunted and red-rimmed, his voice thick with remorse as he begs forgiveness for all that he’s done.

Begs forgiveness for their being here.

“This isn’t your fault,” I say, quietly approaching him. “You had nothing to do with this, Roman’s the one who turned them. You know how proud he was of his elixir, how he liked to share it freely, or at least with whomever he deemed worthy, whereas you only gave it to the orphans and me. Unless…” I swallow hard, look at him, a whole new thought occurring to me, one I pray is just pure paranoia and not at all true. “Unless there were others you haven’t told me about?” I suck in my breath.

Relaxing only when his bereft gaze meets mine and he says, “Six orphans. Plus you. That’s the grand total of my personal legacy.” He lifts his shoulders, breathes deeply, looks all around, before returning to me. “Still, in the end, it doesn’t really matter who fed them the elixir, doesn’t matter who decided to turn them, because all of this—” he sweeps his arm wide, hand arcing before him, all around him, “everything you see here—it all stems from me. I was the first. I planted the seed. Roman never would’ve gotten there if it hadn’t been for me. So, you see, Ever, this is my fault. It’s like Lotus said, I’m the cause and our love is the symptom. I couldn’t let you go. Couldn’t handle the pain of a life lived without you. And while you, my sweet Ever, my dearest Adelina, may very well be the cure, I have to do all that I can to correct my karma, to right all my wrongs. And what better place to start than right here?”

I pause, taking a few moments to consider his words, while carefully sifting through a few of my own. “Well,” I say, my voice low, quiet, my eyes never once straying far from the elegant planes of his face. “From what I’ve experienced so far, the best way to make up for all that is to release them. That’s pretty much all we can do at this point.”

I show him the crystal, show him how I’ve been using it to break through the glass and set the souls free. Motioning for him to join me, and watching as he places his palms to the surface and sends a silent plea for forgiveness. His flesh throbbing, blistering, blackening, before becoming almost mummified looking—refusing my offer of the crystal that will allow him to heal, he prefers to suffer, convinced he deserves it, as he follows me from one to the next. The two of us repeating the sequence—Damen expressing his regrets as I send the glass shattering so another soul can rush out.

When we get to the next one, we halt—immediately sensing something different. Instantly alerted to something unusual that sets it apart from those that came before. And even though the energy within is just as frantic as all the others, thrashing furiously, crashing from top to bottom and side to side, moving so fast it’s hard to get a handle on, to see it for anything more than a confusing blur—it’s still an energy we both recognize.

So I bow out. Step to the side.

This particular soul is Damen’s to release, not mine.

While we all share a past, a long and convoluted history of jealousy that always ends in murder, my murder, the two of them have memories that don’t involve me, have nothing to do with me—and not all of them bad.

I hand him the crystal, listening as he calls to her silently, telepathically, but still I can hear. And when he places his hands on either side of her cube, everything stills.

Damen? she calls, sensing his presence, his energy, or maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Maybe she’s been calling for him since the day I killed her and sent her soul here.

I am here. He closes his eyes, presses his forehead to the glass, holding on to the sides with each hand. I have failed you. Failed you in so many ways. Failed to love you in the way that you wanted, in the way that you needed. And though I may have saved your life, may have spared you from the black plague, I’m afraid that in the end, I stepped in where I didn’t belong, and, because of it, I’ve reduced you to this.