The weight of my decision pressed down on me like a physical force as I stood in my study, staring out at the gray dawn. The "Severance of the Serpent's Coil" ritual loomed in my thoughts, inevitable and terrible.
"I have no choice," I whispered to the empty room. "It must be done."
Death waited at the end of this path—my death. The ancient texts were clear: no Guardian had survived the ritual. But if I succeeded, the Ophidian Pact would end. My family would be free. Lysander would be free.
The door opened behind me. I didn't need to turn to know it was Isabella.
"You've made your decision," she said softly. It wasn't a question.
I faced her, memorizing every detail of her beautiful face. "Yes."
Isabella's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but her voice remained steady. "And you weren't going to discuss it with me first?"
"What is there to discuss? I am the Guardian. It's my duty."
