Page 239 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
My fangs throb, lengthening of their own accord.
“Do we even have time? You made it sound like they were about to burst into the room with pitchforks and torches.”
“They might. All the more reason for you to take my blood now.”
“Teach me how to ward the entrance to our room, how to put shields around us.”
His brows pinch together. “That all depends on your magical predilections, but..." Azrael takes my hand, presses my fingertips to the side of his head. “I have a feeling you might be good at this... Close your eyes.”
Azrael’s eyes slip shut, and I follow his lead.
“Imagine your fingertips resting on a black stone wall.”
Before he even finishes his sentence, I can see it. Feel it. Impossibly tall, it rises high beyond the clouds. I’m standing in an expanse of disorienting fog; feet immersed in cool, black sand that seems... hungry.
“Do you see it?”
“Yes, among other things.” I shift restlessly from foot to foot as I realize the sand is creeping higher—from the soles of my feet to my ankles. “I don’t like this sand.”
I can hear the mirth in his voice. “You’re not supposed to.”
“Press your forehead to the stone. Ignore the dizziness. Ignore the screaming..."
Screaming?
I follow his instruction. My stomach swoops with intense nausea as my equilibrium whirls in spinning circles that I can’t control. Wind howls so loudly within my mind it does indeed sound like distant screaming. Its persistence, depth, and volume rising rapidly, reaching a crescendo that sounds like an infinite sea of voices wailing in fury. Combined with the intense dizziness, every molecule of my being revolts; demands retreat.
Unseen fingers press into my flesh—through my flesh—as if they’re trying to grasp my soul and drag it from my body. Azrael’s voice is a calm tether, and the only thing keeping me on my feet.
“Ignore them... Just keep pressing further.”
Tingling energy rushes through me as they continue to pull and an unfamiliar sense of panic closes around my throat andweighs on my chest as I feel them take hold of my actual fucking soul.
Fear consumes me. This feels like death. The worst kind. Not swift and sudden, but gradual, unrelenting, and ravenous—and I’m powerless against it.
“Azrael... ,” is the sole word I can manage through gritted teeth.
His voice is a distant echo not heard over the howling wind and voices, but felt in my soul.
“You’re almost there. Just let go.”
Let go of what? I’m fucking dying.
All thought and recognition of this world—even of him—are fading. I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to let anything go. Certainly not him or Violette, but I feel like with each pull of these invisible hands, my soul slips further and further outside of my body.
“Let them take you.”
The voice is familiar, but I can no longer remember who it belongs to. The tension pervading my body spills out in a rush and I feel like I can finally breathe.
Stars surround me, and I feel both awe and a soul-deep sense of returning home. No physical body or memory burdens me. The only weight upon my soul is that of infinite love bound by no singular body or mind.
It simply is.
I simply am.
A cosmic and multiversal knowing illuminates everything and nothing.
This is where I belong.
