Page 122 of Fallen Nocturne

The witch does not let him break free for long. Her shadows drive into his armor as she forces her will back into him.

“Back to sleep, beloved,” she hisses.

Eirik screams. The sound is agonized, the cry of a soul being hollowed out from the inside.

He staggers, but he does not fall. His fingers tighten around Dragonslayer. With a roar, he tears one of the shadows from his chest and turns upon the enchantress. “Get out of my mind.”

He lunges toward her.

The witch recoils. Real fear flashes across her face as Dragonslayer’s point stops a breath from her throat. The shadows around the king tremble beneath the force of his resistance.

Something shifts in Morgaine’s face. The darkness leaves her eyes, fading back to their natural brown, and her expression crumples in terror.

“Eirik?” she whispers.

The king freezes.

“Morgaine?” His voice splinters with hope. “Is that you? Is that really you?”

“Don’t let her take me back,” Morgaine chokes out, her voice breaking on the words. “Please help me, Eirik. I’m scared.”

Tears spill down her cheeks. She clutches at her throat with shaking hands, as if she can still feel the shadows wrapped around it.

“She put me in a tomb.” Her breath catches. “A little dark box inside my own mind. I could hear everything. I could see everything. I could do nothing. Please. Don’t let me go back there.”

“Morgaine, I will free you soon,” Eirik says, and he reaches for her.

She stumbles a half step toward him, trembling so violently she can barely stay upright. “You have to end this,” she whispers. “Please. Kill me before she takes me again.”

The words cut through the chamber so sharply that even the sentinels seem to still.

“Kill me,” she begs. “Please. I am begging you. End this before she comes back. I do not want to go back inside that place.”

Eirik’s sword arm drops an inch.

“I can’t,” he whispers.

“You must,” Morgaine insists, her fingers closing around the blade of Dragonslayer. Blood wells between her knuckles, but she does not let go. “She will use me to destroy everything. She will use me to destroy you. I would rather die as myself than live as her puppet.”

“Morgaine, I—”

“Do it!” she screams.

He does not move.

Morgaine’s eyes find mine. I have fought this woman’s schemes for years. I have hated her with every breath in my body. But the look on her face stops me cold.

“Herald,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Landon. Please. You owe me nothing, but I am asking you. Do not let her put me back in that place.”

I have never heard Morgaine beg. Not once. Not when the council turned against her, not when Eirik’s court called her a foreign whore, not when every lord in the kingdom wanted her dead. She faced all of it with her chin raised and venom on her tongue.

Now she is on her knees, bleeding from both hands, begging me to kill her.

My grip tightens on my sword.

The king’s face breaks open with horror at her plea.

“Stop,” he says, but whether he means her or me, I do not know.