"And we would live long enough to inherit the throne," said Xeries, finally understanding. "No matter how long it took."
"Precisely," said Shylby. "And then all of this"-she waved her arm out, taking in the entire valley below the Cloven Mountains all the way to the Deepwash-"shall be ours to rule. Together."
++++
It was nearly two years later before they had everything they needed to begin their spell. Their lives had been consumed by research and the procuring of rare magical components. But they had spent that time together, and they had only grown closer.
"The very last part of the ritual requires absolute concentration," Shylby said. "The words have to be spoken in unison."
Xeries nodded. "I know."
"If either of us misses a beat, the spell will backfire."
Xeries took a breath. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?" he asked as the two of them laid out all the things they were going to need for their daylong ritual.
"Of course I am."
Shylby smiled. To Xeries, Shylby's smile was the most intoxicating thing in the world. It calmed him. It warmed him. And it wiped away any doubt he had. "Are you?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, feeling tremendously lucky to have met and married such a wonderful woman. "I'm ready."
Taking their candles, they lit the censers and began the ritual. Since they needed an entire uninterrupted day to cast their spell, they had chosen a remore barn on the outskirts of Shylby's father's land. No one would find or bother them there, almost a full day's ride from the baron's keep. It was the perfect place.
Ground herbs and botanical oils were poured into the flame, one at a time, each in its proper order and accompanied by the correct words. They had rehearsed, over and over, the many different verses of the spell. Oftentimes reciting them like poetry to each other, as if the archaic sounds from this long unspoken magical language were sweet nothings.
The day passed, and finally they were ready to speak the last few words of the spell that would bind their souls, their spirits, and their life-forces together-bringing them immortality. Xeries and Shylby stood over a large stone altar in the middle of the room. It was filled with water, and they looked down at the reflections of themselves.
They were so young, and both so beautiful. Shylby with her long, honey-colored hair, tied up now in braids. Her smooth porcelain skin, unbroken and unblemished. Her eyes were pure blue, like a clear sky on a new summer day.
He too was quite handsome. His chin covered in trimmed, brown hair. His face tanned from the sun. His eyes clear and kind, a peaceful man with only love in his heart.
Shylby gave him that same smile as they moved to the final stage of the spell, speaking the words in unison.
Bind us heart and soul Bring us together as one Neither living apart
Our love the string that ties us May we live forever together Or live not at all apart
Magic swirled around the barn. Mores of light lifted from the censers. Scents and sounds filled every corner. Their spell was reaching its climax, growing in intensity just before it would break and wash over them both.
Like a wedding ceremony, the two lovers were to speak their devotion to each other, then kiss, consecrating their immortal love.
"I shall be with you forever," they said to each other. "Or I shall die-".
The door to the barn burst open. _
Startled by the sound, Xeries turned to see a man, his body lit from behind by the late afternoon sun.
"Alone," said Shylby, her voice intoning the last word of the spell without his.
Xeries heart froze. He had failed to speak the word in unison, and the ritual was broken.
The next few moments were a blur to him. He remembered hearing Shylby scream. The torrent of loose magical energy lifted him into the air. He felt himself thrashed around, then as if he were gripped from the inside by a million hands, his body bent and disfigured. His back bowed. His face grew boils. His chest caved in. His arms stretched, and his knees knocked together.
He dropped back to the floor, every inch of his body wracked with pain. He squirmed on the ground, trying to claw his way out of his own skin. But it was no use. There was nowhere for him to go.
When the pain began to subside, Xeries tried to move, but he could not get to his feet.
"Shylby! Shylby, are you hurt?" His words sounded strange, as if both he and Shylby were speaking them at the same time.
Shylby lay on the floor beside the stone, water-filled altar. One look at the love of his life, and Xeries found a new level of misery. The aches in his own flesh were nothing compared to the torment he felt over seeing Shylby, her face and body turned nearly inside out. She twisted and flopped, writhing in pain, her mouth agape, open for a perpetual scream that never came out.
Pulling himself across the rough wooden floor to lie beside her, Xeries scooped Shylby up in his arms. Her beautiful honeyed hair had fallen from her head in huge clumps, leaving weeping bald flesh in its place. The smooth, perfect skin on her face had been tortured and burned. Huge blisters consumed every inch, covering her eyes and nose. She tried to touch her face, but she no longer had fingers. Her arms were warped, and her hands had melted into little more than smooth stumps.
Watching her struggle was the most horrific thing Xeries had ever endured. Not in his wildest nightmares could he imagine feeling so powerless, so tormented. Shylby's pain seeped into him, more every moment, and it was then that he knew that nothing worse could ever happen t3" him. Nothing he could ever experience could be as bad as this.
Unable to see him, talk, or touch, Shylby flailed for a moment longer. Her ruined hands found his neck, and she pulled herself as best as she could up against him. She labored to breathe, moving her mouth with tremendous effort. She gasped, struggling with all her might.
"Alone," she whispered, her voice all but gone.
Her body convulsed, jerking uncontrollably. Xeries squeezed her against his chest. Holding onto her was all he could do as she slipped away, her spirit taking a long time to leave her tormented body.
Xeries continued to clutch her to his chest long after she passed. His body twisted and in pain, nothing else mattered to him. Shylby was gone.
"What is happening in here?"
Xeries looked up at a man wearing dirt-spattered clothing. He drew closer, hunched over and carrying a pitchfork.
"What?" said Xeries, confused, not sure where the man had come from. His voice still sounded strange.
"Who are you?" The farmer lowered his pitchfork and pointed it at the young man. "What are you doing here? I heard your strange noises and saw what you did, so don't lie to me, boy."
Xeries's memory came back to him then. This was the man who had opened the door to the barn at the end of their ritual.
"You killed her," said Xeries, his sadness growing into anger. His words echoing each other as if Shylby were still there speaking them in unison with him.
"I saw what you did to her," said the farmer. "Don't try to blame nothing on me."
"It was you," said Xeries, reliving the moment in his head. "You interrupted our spell. You were the one who made me slip." He laid Shylby s head down on the floor and slowly got to his feet, not taking his eyes off of the man.
The farmer started to twitch, clearly nervous. "You better tell me who you are before I run you through." He shook his pitchfork.
"You killed her," Xeries said, pointing an accusing finger at the man. "You took her away from me. You ruined everything."
Shoving his arms out at the farmer, a torrent of magic spilled from his hands. The air rippled and distorted as a shock wave blew the man backward, sending him smashing through the wooden wall of the barn.