Chapter 39
Brigid
I feel like I can see the shadows mimicking the agitation in my mind. Images of the attack flash before my eyes—screams cut off without air, dark tendrils snaking out and bodies crumpling to the ground.
I press my palms against my temples.
Eira's face appears and I see her, contorted in pain as shadow magic ripped through her. My friend, hurt by shadow magic, just like Lochan predicted. But not by me.
Without my shadows, how many would have died? I feel one wrap around my arm, sliding lightly over my skin, a reminder of its deadly potential—and its power to protect.
A sharp knock jolts me from my thoughts. Two stern-faced men loom in the doorway, their expressions hard.
"Brigid Ryan." The taller one's voice is as cold as his eyes. "By order of the Council, you are to be detained for questioning."
I feel my heart race and my blood run cold. "What? Why?"
"Come with us. Now."
They step forward in unison. I stumble back, my legs hitting the edge of the bed.
"Wait, I don't understand—“
If they lock me away, will I ever see daylight again?
Just as rough hands reach for my arms, a familiar figure appears in the hallway. Callen. My eyes lock with Callen's pale blue ones, and I silently beg for help. His expression remains unreadable.
"What's the meaning of this?" Callen's smooth voice carries an edge of authority.
The shorter guard turns. "Council's orders, Your Highness. The girl is to be detained."
"On what grounds?" Callen challenges, his form tensing.
"That's Council business," the taller one grunts.
The guards exchange a glance. "Move," the taller one orders, reaching for me again.
I jerk back, shadows instinctively coiling around my fingers. "Don't touch me."
"Brigid," Callen warns softly. Is he telling me to go quietly or prepare to fight?
My eyes dart between Callen and the guards, searching for an escape.
"Last chance," the shorter guard growls. "Come willingly or we'll drag you."
If I resist, I prove I'm dangerous. If I go, I might never come back.
Callen's lips part as if to speak, but no words come.
"Fine," I whisper. "I'll go."
I see Callen steps closer. "I'll find the others," he murmurs, lips barely moving. "We'll sort this out."
Hope flickers in my chest, then extinguishes as he turns away. The guards seize my arms, fingers digging into my flesh.
I thrash against their grip. My elbow connects with a grunt of pain, but their hold only tightens.
"Settle down," the taller one hisses, twisting my arm behind my back.
Pain lances through my shoulder. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to go limp. No point fighting now. Save my strength.
They march me forward, boots in unison. We descend deeper into Grimstone's lower levels, the air growing colder with each step. Musty dampness hits my nose.
What did I do? Who ordered this ?
We turn down yet another corridor, torchlight casting grotesque shadows. I try to remember how far down we’ve gone already.
An icy fear takes hold. Will Callen really find the others in time? Will they even know where to look for me?
The shadows seem to whisper, urging me to call on their power.
"Where are you taking me?" I demand, voice steadier than I feel.
Silence. The guards' faces remain impassive masks.
I stumble on the uneven floor, jarring my shoulders.
The shorter guard's lip curls. "You'll see soon enough."
The air down here is stagnant and dank.
The guards yank me to a stop in front of what can only be a jail cell. The moment the heavy iron door groans open, its rusty hinges protesting with a screech that reverberates in the stale air, nausea rises and I feel like I’m going to throw up.
The oppressive cell takes shape before me like a gaping maw, swallowing any hint of light that dares to venture inside.
My heart sinks. “You can't be serious.” It looks like something out of the dark ages.
They shove me inside; the door slamming shut with a deafening clang that reverberates through my bones, sealing me in this grim chamber. The sound hangs heavy in the still air.
The walls tower around me, and a solitary torch flickers erratically, casting moving shadows that mockingly distort reality. I shiver and rub my arms. I didn’t even know Grimstone had a dungeon.
Better question: why does Grimstone have a dungeon? This feels like a dead place. I listen, trying to hear something, anything, but there’s no sound other than my uneven breathing.
Anger flares in me.
How dare they ? I helped people during the attack. They can’t think it had anything to do with me? None of this makes sense. Nothing has, not since that night in the woods, back home.
I can feel tears pricking behind my eyes and I blink. No. I refuse to cry. I’ve cried enough. I refuse to be the victim any more. Fuck this .
I reach for that familiar darkness within, hoping to wrap myself in its arms, remembering Marius’s words to me. I close my eyes and let go, inviting the shadows to come forth.
Nothing happens.
The power that usually pulsates beneath my skin is eerily silent.
"No," I whisper. I try again, desperately grasping for even a tendril of shadow. Still nothing.
The cell must be warded.
The realization that I’m completely helpless in here hits me like a physical blow. I sink to the floor, feeling the cold of the stone floor through my thin clothes.
The Council is supposed to be fair. Democratic. Just. They rule unchallenged, but it’s for the greater good, or so they say. Without the Council, Eira said, the supernatural factions would be in a constant state of war.
When the Raven King was defeated, all the leaders of the various kingdoms came together to form a united superpower of all the different factions, and they would all rule in perpetuity—for the good of the realm.
Right now, the Council doesn’t feel like protectors. They feel like oppressors.
I wrap my arms around myself, fighting against my fear of being isolated, this time potentially forever. In the flickering torchlight, my own shadow seems to mock me, a reminder of what's been stolen.
Uninvited, the thoughts come to me. I want them to regret doing this to me. I want them to run in fear from me. I want to be the thing in the dark that makes them cower and hide.
But just as quickly as I think about these things, I shove them all back down. That’s not who I am. That’s who they think I’ll become.
Callen said he’ll tell the others. They’ll come for me. But as the shadows deepen and the silence stretches on, doubt creeps in like a poison.
Will they ?