Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Scolecite
The forest is silent around me. Echoes of darkness linger in the air, following me deeper into the trees. With every step I take, I feel the warmth of the shard pulse hotter.
I can already feel the wells of my magic slowly rebuilding—my shadows the strongest as they reach for the moonlight and greedily bask in its glow. But the rest of my Essence is quiet.
A hollow crunch snaps my gaze to the right, following the sound. I reach for my shadows, only a small wisp heeding my call. Shaking my head, I unsheathe my dagger instead.
Another crack splinters, from my left this time, and I twist toward it, careful not to turn my back fully to where the other sound came from. Another snap sounds from in front of me, then behind.
My heart begins to race as I realize whatever it is, I’m surrounded.
A searing hot pain hits sharply against my chest, and I hiss, flinching away from it. I slash at the air, coming up empty. The heat still presses against my heart.
The shard.
With my free hand, I scramble to get it, yanking it out of the inside pocket of my vest. It burns against my hand, the scar it left pulsing and itching to touch it.
A deep growl echoes from the tree line, followed by several more.
Whatever is out there is closing in, and all I have is a single blade and weak shadows.
Bushes in front of me rustle, and a creature unlike anything I’ve seen emerges—a beast half wolf and half nightmare.
Its fur is as black as the night, billowing with shadows and showcasing glowing red eyes.
My lungs seize as I realize it’s now or never. With no other choice, I send a quick prayer to Eurydice that I was right about what the shard of Nightfall can do.
With trembling fingers, I snatch open the cloth and press the gleaming white piece into my palm. I close my eyes, imagining Graylen as the shard grows hotter.
Sticks snap as the creature stalks closer.
“Any time now,” I mumble, my hands shaking as sweat begins to pool at my neck.
But nothing happens. No vision—no magic portal that takes me to him. Even the heat begins to dim, cooling to a dull ember.
The moment my muscles begin to relax, the beast makes its move.
It swipes a paw out, catching my forearm with a sharp talon and dragging it down the length of my arm. I hiss, flinching back as I raise my dagger with my unmarred hand. Blood trails down my arm, the shard still clutched in my palm.
Another beast emerges. They circle me; the one in front makes a gurgling noise that sounds like a twisted laugh. The creatures know they have me—know they have their meal for the night.
My dagger shakes in my hand, and I take a deep breath, willing my heart rate to calm. I can feel my arm begin to heal, the flesh knitting itself back together. It itches—burns. It never does that.
Then I realize the burning sensation isn’t coming from the wound healing, but from the shard. It flares to life, and it takes every ounce of strength left in me to hold onto it—even though it burns like I’m trying to hold my hand over a fire.
My blood. It needed my blood for a small part of its power.
Now I’m asking something more of it, and I don’t know if blood alone will feed its hunger to consume.
I gasp as the heat surges, as if it knows I’m close to giving it what it wants.
The creatures close in, leaning back on their hind legs one by one, preparing to lunge.
With one last try, I squeeze my eyes closed and hold my hand out, blood dripping off of my palm. That’s when I feel a pulse of magic from the center of my palm—from the piece of Nightfall.
The strange magic brushes against my soul, as if feeling for a crack to slip in through. On the other side, my Essence builds—begging to be let out. It winds through me, weaving between the spaces that separate each distinct type of magic from the next as if…searching. Waiting.
It doesn’t take; it simply exists right within my Essence.
I hastily cut deeper into my hand and let more blood seep into it, but nothing happens.
A frustrated grunt leaves my throat as I squeeze the shard tighter, waiting for the blood to work. But it doesn’t.
The creatures circle me, closing in. I don’t have long.
Think.
The shard still hums within my grasp, waiting to be used. But how? It worked the first time with just my blood.
Magic demands balance. A price. I think it wants something equal to what it’s being asked to give.
If it needed a piece of me to work, maybe it needs…more. More sacrifice than a little blood. If I’m wrong, I could lose the chance of getting Graylen back. But I have to try.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as I begin to let the curious magic within the shard in. Instead of existing around my Essence, I open myself up to it in a desperate attempt to give it what it wants—even if I don’t know what that price is yet.
With a shaky breath, I decide that this choice is the only way to save Graylen. That giving it what it wants is the only right option—the alternative is leaving him in the Vale, and that’s no option at all. I lift the floodgates and let it fully in.
The fire in my veins—so like Graylen’s—answers it first, roaring to life and tangling with an ancient and unfamiliar magic. It feels wrong, like trying to run backwards instead of forwards, or like trying to bathe with sand instead of soap.
Strands of loose hair around my shoulders float in front of my face, and my chest tingles with tiny pricks.
The power of the shard runs deeper, hastily exploring the rest of my magic.
As if the thread of it in my soul was doused with a bucket of water, the piece of me that belongs to the Aegis begins to dim, slowly being leeched away from my body little by little.
I gasp.
It’s trying to take my magic.
No, no, no.
I can’t help Graylen in the Vale if I don’t have a way to protect us. I don’t know what state he’ll be in and if he’ll be able to help, and I certainly don’t know the horrors of what awaits us down there.
The shard can’t just…take my magic.
I resist it, pulling back my Essence and trying to shut the door between me and the shard.
The pull lessens instantly, as if it’ll only take what I allow it to have.
It has to be my decision. Fully my choice to give it what it wants.
I swallow, knowing I’m running out of time with the beasts closing in and the power of the shard dimming.
What if it takes all of my magic?
The magic that I’ve come to understand—come to love—is what I must give it. It’s somehow become a part of me, always there beneath the surface, but hidden. Before my magic, before coming to Penyth, I wasn’t whole. Wasn’t me.
I’ve found who I am through my Essence; who will I become without it?
A tear slips down my cheek as I realize what I have to do—what I have to give up. All magic has a price.
With a painful sob, I reopen the connection and allow the shard’s magic back in.
It rushes in, eagerly exploring my Essence once more.
I push my Undine side front and center, knowing it’s my weakest. The ancient power sweeps in like a cresting wave, pulling my magic out to sea. But it isn’t a painful, abrupt end; it’s as slow and as steady as the drifting current.
It takes and takes, draining it down to the final dregs.
My chest tightens as I prepare to feel it rip my Undine side away from me.
But it slows to a halt, as if satisfied.
The air shifts, and my eyes snap open. One of the beasts in front of me lunges, its jaw opened as it soars through the air toward me. A rippling bright light explodes from my hand, cutting the creature off from my view and making the entire forest disappear.