Chapter 51. Taken

The black flame did not burn; it suffocated. It was the antithesis of the copper fire that defined Aria, a pure, cold negation that consumed light and life. As the two chains of anti-magic wrapped around her wrists, the surrender became a physical ordeal. Aria fell to her knees, every nerve ending screaming as the Severed Flame began its work, draining the essence of the Flameborn.

It felt as though a vital organ was being excised without anesthetic. The energy—her power, her freedom, her very self—was being forcibly pulled through her skin and channeled into the gleaming obsidian cuff on Cassandra’s arm. The shift was agonizingly slow and terrifyingly thorough.

“It’s a magnificent piece of engineering, isn’t it?” Cassandra murmured, circling her captive. Her voice was thick with self-congratulation and a triumphant malice that eclipsed all their past rivalries. “The Elders have had centuries to perfect a countermeasure for the Anathema. You were meant to be sealed, not