Chapter 17 #2
“Do you love him?”
My core tenses and my heart screams it’s starting to and then pounds against the ribs that confine it, yelling that he should be the first to know.
My head tells me it’s unwise to trust anyone in Lorien’s world with a secret like this, and it warns that maybe even Lorien isn’t to be trusted with this.
I’d be too vulnerable.
Too weak.
Too easy to manipulate and control.
Soren glares at me as if he’s trying to solve an unfathomable problem, and maybe that’s what love really is. A never ending, constant challenge that tests us in ways we cannot imagine and leaves us praying we rise to heights we never dreamed of.
The shadows catch my eye again and I snap my head around, only noticing how the shard of mirror catches the dim light. Its gleam twists unnaturally, almost pulsing as I stare at it. I shove away the thought, focusing instead on Soren’s words, on their weight and the sharp edges they carve into me.
“You’re deflecting,” he says, folding his arms.
“No,” I snap, the word harsher than I intend. My hands grip the edge of the desk now, grounding me. “I’m ignoring you. There’s a difference.”
Soren’s lips twitch, but the amusement doesn’t reach his eyes. “You can’t ignore it forever.”
Before I can reply, a faint hum fills the room. I freeze, my pulse spiking as I glance at Soren. His easy stance vanishes, replaced by sharp tension. His muscles tighten and his lean figure grows bigger, more imposing, as he prepares for a threat I don’t understand.
“Do you hear that?”
The hum grows louder, a low, vibrating sound that crawls under my skin. My gaze snaps to the shard on the desk. Its faint shimmer has intensified, and shadows ripple across its surface, dark and shifting.
“What did you touch?” Soren asks, his voice low, wary.
“Nothing,” I reply, though the shard’s malevolence argues otherwise.
The hum shifts into a keening sound, and before I can step back, the shard flares with an eerie, cold light. A gust of wind erupts from it, and the room fills with whispers—no, screams.
Something claws its way out of the mirror shard.
It’s hideous, but I can’t take my eyes off it, held in its thrall as if it’s cast a spell on me. I should move but, for some reason, I don’t feel like it, not as the darkness grows.
“Move!”
Soren lunges, shoving me aside as a black, skeletal figure unfolds itself from the shard. It’s grotesque, dripping with water that pools unnaturally at its feet. Its eyes are hollow voids, and yet they find me, locking onto me with intent that freezes the blood in my veins.
I shake my head as Soren draws a dagger from his belt. The weapon glints with runes, but even he looks uncertain as he steps between me and the creature.
“It’s kelpie magic,” he spits. “Stay behind me.”
The thing hisses, its form shifting unnaturally, as though it can’t quite hold itself together. Tendrils of shadow lash out, slamming into Soren. He staggers but doesn’t fall, slashing at the tendrils. They recoil, but more take their place.
“Jude, stay back!” he shouts, his voice sharp, commanding.
I scramble to my feet, and the creature lunges, faster than I expect, and Soren barely manages to shove it back. But the effort costs him. A tendril wraps around his arm, burning through his shirt and searing his skin. He cries out, and the sound tears through me.
I grab the nearest object and hurl it at the creature. It doesn’t flinch, but it draws its gaze to me. My stomach drops as its hollow eyes bore into mine.
Soren curses, lunging forward to distract it, but he’s losing ground. The creature is too fast, too fluid. It’s overpowering him, and I stare down, noticing the shadows as they wrap around my legs.
“Jude—” His shout cuts off as a tendril strikes his chest like a whip, sending him crashing into the wall. The dagger slips from his grip, clattering uselessly to the floor.
Panic grips me as the creature’s tendrils snake up his arms, pinning him to the wall. It’s playing with him now, savoring its victory. And then, its attention shifts to me.
I don’t move.
I can’t.
The shadows tighten around my legs, pulling me forward inch by inch.
My heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s trying to shatter my ribs.
The creature’s face, or what passes for a face, splits into a grotesque grin, its hollow eyes alight with cruel amusement.
It’s more horrific than the creatures that haunted my cottage and I’d rather know the moirai’s embrace than know what this is capable of.
It lunges.
The impact sends me sprawling to the floor.
My head hits the ground hard, and stars explode in my vision.
Cold, wet tendrils coil around my arms, pinning me down.
I struggle, but it’s useless. The thing is too strong, and its weight is suffocating.
The icy, briny scent of death fills my nostrils as it leans closer, its gaping maw inches from my face.
This is it.
The thought is clear, stark.
The air in my lungs burns as my heart falters as the darkness deepens and my vision narrows.
Then the air shifts.
A wave of heat cuts through the cold, and the oppressive darkness recedes just enough for me to draw a ragged breath. The creature jerks back, hissing in pain as golden light floods the room.
Lorien steps through the doorway and I stare at the blade in his hand, focusing on the fierce, golden light that glows from it and the runes that pulse with power. His eyes burn, and for the first time, I understand why even his enemies fear him—and why I should.
He doesn’t hesitate, refusing to give the creature a chance to act, moving with impossible speed. His blade slices through the shadows that hold me down and I catch a breath of free air as the creature lets out an earsplitting screech.
Tendrils writhe and dissolve into smoke, and the creature fights back, but it’s no match for Lorien. Each swing of Lorien’s blade sends shockwaves through the room, the light driving the darkness back inch by inch.
I force myself to sit up, my body trembling. Soren is slumped against the wall, alive but barely conscious. My gaze snaps back to Lorien as he drives the creature into a corner, his blade blazing brighter with each strike.
With a final, deafening cry, the creature collapses into itself, its darkness imploding in a flash of light. When the light fades, there’s nothing left but the cracked shard on the floor.
Lorien turns to me, his expression unreadable. His gaze flicks over me, lingering on the bruises blooming across my arms.
“You’re alive,” he says, the tension in his voice betraying the calm exterior.
I nod, unable to form words.
I stare down, wondering what the pool of black beneath me is. I blink and realize that it’s red and I’m bleeding out. The world darkens, my vision narrowing again, and the last thing I see is Lorien rushing towards me, his eyes wide with something that looks alarmingly like fear.