Annael’s flawless face turned towards him, tear-stained and broken. In the unplumbed depths of her eyes, he saw that she knew. Like him, she was helpless as a leaf in a waterfall. Like him, she was a victim of the magical curse; the ardesco, an obsessive compulsion to love to which any Ishafal or demon might succumb. ‘You must.’ Her voice cracked; one discordant note in a perfect symphony.