Chapter 33

33

CAROLINA

T he Underworld is colder than I remember. The air is damp, heavy, clinging to my skin like a second layer of something suffocating. Shadows twist and shift at the edges of my vision, dark forms that I can’t quite make out but feel pressing closer. It’s like walking through a nightmare, one where the walls bend and stretch, making the space seem both endless and claustrophobic at the same time. Every step I take echoes in the eerie silence, reminding me that I’m not supposed to be here.

The maze-like caverns feel alive, their twisted stone walls pulsing with some dark, unnatural energy that thrums beneath my feet. The light—or what little of it there is—flickers faintly from cracks in the stone, casting everything in a sickly, pale glow. I cling to the shadows, keeping low, moving silently. I know better than to let myself be seen here.

My heart pounds in my chest, but I force myself to focus. I need to find her. I need to find Camila. I’m clutching her necklace so tightly that I know her name will be engraved on my palm permanently.

The path twists and turns, each passageway narrowing, then opening into cavernous expanses. I glance around at each turn, checking for movement, for anything lurking in the darkness. The back of my neck prickles as I can’t shake the feeling that something—someone—is watching me.

The Underworld is full of things that shouldn’t exist—things that would tear me apart if they knew I was here. But none of them matter. All that matters is finding Camila and getting us both out of here.

A faint noise catches my ear—like the clink of metal, distant and hollow. My pulse quickens. I follow the sound, my steps quick but careful. The ground beneath my feet is rough and uneven, like the jagged, broken bones of the earth. The sound grows louder the further I go, until it leads me to an open cavern, a vast and empty space where the ceiling disappears into shadows far above.

And there, in the center of the room, is Camila.

She’s trapped in a freestanding iron cage. Collapsed on the ground, her head leans against the bars, and her hands grip them tightly. Camila’s head is ducked, and her wild hair cascades over her face, blocking it from my view.

My heart clenches at the sight of her, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. She must sense me because she looks up, her eyes locking onto mine, wide with shock and relief. I can see her face now, streaked with dried tears, and her cheeks have dirt on them.

"Carolina," she breathes, her voice hoarse, as if she’s been screaming.

I rush forward, my heart racing. "Camila! Are you okay?"

"I’m okay. I’m not hurt,” she says, but there’s a tremor in her voice that betrays the fear she’s trying to hide. "But you shouldn’t be here. Esme?—"

"I know," I cut her off, my voice hard. "I already know about Esme."

My hands grab the cold iron bars, and I pull, but the cage doesn’t budge. My magic flickers beneath my skin, reacting to the dark energy surrounding the cage. There’s something else here, something more than just iron holding her in. I can feel it—the dark magic woven into the bars, a protective spell designed to keep her trapped.

"The lock," Camila says, her voice trembling and weak. "It’s enchanted. I’ve tried everything."

I grit my teeth, frustration boiling inside me. I can feel the magic pulsing from the lock, twisted and wrong, like something crawling under my skin. Like with the painting, I search for cracks in the spell, weak points that I can break through, but it’s strong—too strong for me to break without knowing exactly what spell was used. And if I force it…

Before I can say anything, the air around us shifts, and I feel a presence behind me. My blood runs cold as I turn to see two figures emerging from one of the cavernous structures. Esme…and someone else.

The figure beside her is cloaked in a long, dark robe, his face hidden beneath a hood that casts deep shadows over his features. But even through the darkness, I can feel the power radiating from him. It’s suffocating, pressing down on me like a weight I can’t escape.

Esme’s face is pale, her eyes empty, like the life has been drained from her. But it’s her presence here, in this place, that hits me the hardest. The betrayal is like a knife twisting in my chest, sharp and unforgiving.

Esme. The woman who grew up with us. The girl who danced in our kitchen with our mom and created recipes with abuela . The witch we’ve always treated like a sister…now standing there, working with this thing .

I feel sick, my stomach churning with disbelief. This is what it’s come to? All her talk about helping us figure out who was behind the disappearances, about keeping the darkness at bay, and now she’s standing next to it. Helping it steal the souls of people she’d grown up with.

The cloaked figure steps forward, and I’m hit with a wave of cold, raw power. The shadows around him seem to cling to him, shifting and swirling like they’re alive. Slowly, he lifts his hand, pulling back his hood.

My breath catches in my throat, and my hand wraps around one of Camila’s. My magic balks at the sight of him, but I can’t let it show, even if my skin is peppered with goosebumps.

The figure beneath the hood is impossibly handsome—devilishly so, with sharp, chiseled features and eyes that glow faintly, like embers. But there’s something off about him. His face isn’t quite solid, more translucent, like he’s only halfway here. Not fully summoned. Not yet.

Esme hasn’t completed it.

"This is who you’ve been trying to free," I whisper, my voice shaking with rage. The weight of betrayal crushes me, but I don’t let that show either. I can’t. "This thing is what you were working for?"

Esme doesn’t respond, but her eyes flicker with something—regret, maybe. Or guilt. It doesn’t matter. Not now.

The figure, the being Esme has been trying to summon, turns his gaze on me, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous, predatory light.

"Ah, Carolina Castillo," he says, his voice smooth, silky, with a darkness lurking just beneath the surface. "I’ve been expecting you."

My heart skips a beat, and I step closer to the bars, instinctively shielding Camila from his gaze. He knows who I am. Of course, he does.

"And your sister," he continues, his voice dripping with amusement. "Esme has done quite well in bringing me this far, but we’ve run into a little… complication ." He says the last word with a cruel, wicked smile that makes my stomach churn.

His eyes flicker to Camila in the cage, then back to me, the smile still twisting his lips. "You see, we’re not quite finished. Your dear friend Esme hasn’t completed the summoning yet. And that’s where you come in."

I can feel the blood drain from my face, but I stand my ground. "What are you talking about?"

He takes a step closer, and I can feel his power pressing against me, cold and overwhelming. "It’s quite simple, really. Esme was sick of watching active witches treat her like she was nothing. The same as a mortal even.” His lip curls in disgust at the thought.

I look at Esme, hoping to see something in her face that will convince me he’s lying to us. That she would never stoop so low for power. Except her face shows me nothing but regret and sorrow. A piece of me dies in that moment.

“So she came to me for help, but there’s not much I can do in this form. I needed some…help returning to my corporeal form. You see, the summoning requires a sacrifice. A soul, to be specific. And Esme…well, she’s been very helpful in providing those."

My stomach turns, bile rising in my throat as I realize what he’s saying. The missing people. She’s been feeding him their souls so he can return to full power.

“But why ?” I hadn’t meant for it to slip out, but now that it has, he’s looking at me like I’ve disappointed him.

“Carolina, I thought you were the smarter one. That’s what Esme says. Unless you mean, why me? Why now? In which case, I’ll let Esme explain,” he says, turning to look at her expectantly.

Her face pales even more so than before. Everything about her seems frail. She won’t look at me; her gaze is glued to the ground between us.

“I…I just wanted to be like you. To feel powerful. I found a spell…to summon power. I didn’t think it would work. My spells never do?—”

He clicks his tongue. “Didn’t the girls teach you, Esme? You must be so careful with spells, especially ones that summon dark magic…you never know who might be listening.” His lips pull over his sharp teeth.

My skin crawls at the sight. Something about him seems familiar, and I try to place him in my memory, but I can’t.

“He answered in my dreams. Told me that he could help me get active magic if I helped him. I thought he was just trapped in the spirit world…”

“And then what, Esme? Tell them what I gave you.” She turns her head away from us. “Fine. I knew Esme couldn’t help me without at least some active magic, so I gave her a little of mine.”

Esme had dark magic. Why hadn’t I been able to sense it? Maybe it was just a kernel. Something not even my magic could detect. But whatever it was, it was enough to compel the town to sacrifice themselves and teleport into the shop to take Camila.

“But why would you do this to us, Esme? We’re your family.”

It’s the first time Camila had said something to her. Her voice is rough and empty. She’s accepted that Esme has done this but doesn’t understand why.

I think back to my first spell. The one that gave Susie acne. I remember the traces of the dark magic, but I also remember how powerful I felt. The idea that my magic could bend to fulfill any desire I had. I couldn’t imagine how alluring that must have felt to an inactive witch. Someone who only feels the surface of magic.

“I’m sorry,” Esme says, hanging her head.

“She’s not, but," he says, his voice softening to a mocking whisper, "there’s one more soul I need after you stopped her from bringing me the last one using the proper ritual. Now, I need one much stronger…The soul of someone very special to you. Someone…connected to you. Someone who’s beaten death in this lifetime.”

At this, Esme’s head whips up, and shock coats her features. She starts to shake her head. “That wasn’t the deal. You said you wanted them here so they’d be out of your way. So you could complete the summoning.”

I freeze, my blood turning to ice as his words sink in. He’s not talking about Camila. He’s talking about?—

"Your mirror soul," he says, ignoring Esme, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Declan O’Reilly. I can feel him. I know he’ll come for you. I’ve already muted your connection with your familiar. She’ll send him here to find you, and when he opens the portal…we’ll take him. We’ll use his soul to complete the summoning, and you’ll both get to watch."

My heart stutters in my chest, terror and fury coursing through me. I can feel my magic stirring, thrumming beneath my skin, but I can’t let it loose. Not yet. Not while he’s standing there, so sure of himself.

I can’t let him take Declan.

"Over my dead body," I hiss, my voice shaking with rage.

The figure laughs, the sound cold and hollow, echoing through the cavern. "Oh, Carolina," he says, stepping closer. "That can be arranged."