Chapter 34
Eyes sliding shut, Imani wished for this night to end quickly as they ascended higher.
The second she dared open her lids again, a streak of lightning cracked across the sky in front of them, and Imani flinched back into Kiran’s chest. Then she pushed away from Kiran to get a better look, but his arm stayed banded around her like steel.
In the next instant, they were dropping lower, and more lightning flickered around them in the distance. The Fabric’s magic seemed wild and unhinged this far up the mountainside.
While they dropped lower, they didn’t land. Instead, suspended in midair was a rip in the Fabric so large it seemed to swallow all the light itself inside of it.
Of course, hidden this high in the sky as it was, who would have been able to find such a phenomenon?
The heat at her back told her just who would be able to—who did—and it scared her. Kiran scared her, although she rarely let herself admit it. Except in these moments when his pure brilliance and insanity showed itself.
Kiran leaned forward, eyes wild, as he rubbed his hands up and down the beast’s neck, whispering something Imani couldn’t understand.
They picked up speed almost instantly, and Kiran chuckled darkly in Imani’s ear when she curled herself into him. Now, barreling toward it, she knew they wouldn’t be walking through this slip like before.
Terrified, she squirmed in her seat, and Kiran tightened his other arm around her. She felt the back end of his wand dig into her side—a warning to get it together—but was shaking too badly to care.
More sharp winds whipped through her like knives, and up this close to the tear, she could feel even more magic. It skimmed across her skin, hot and cold, wild and free.
More darkness surrounded them the closer they got to the slip. It was as if liquid night rippled forward, yet it dissipated the longer it spent on this side of the realm.
When she felt the magic slide around her, she leaned into the darkness. Let it calm her. Let it soothe her. Let it caress her.
Imani itched to control it, to use it to get herself out of this mess, but there wasn’t time. They careened headfirst into the crevice ripped in the sky.
Imani felt a tearing sensation as she entered the slip—her body trying to keep her in the realm, no doubt.
All the air was instantly sucked from her lungs. Her stomach lurched, and her head throbbed.
Inside, the only light came from the lightning strikes that streaked across the edge of the slip. Otherwise, the tunnel was darkness itself, and Imani couldn’t breathe. She remembered Kiran saying to hold her breath, but Imani hadn’t.
Whispers like she’d never heard before screamed all at once in her head.
The stolen deaths of the souls she’d eaten coiled inside Imani like a snake. She’d only had a handful of deaths tucked away, but Imani felt the tiny darkness of each and every soul she’d consumed clambering to get free.
Without warning, shadows began to seep from her skin, like blood and smoke.
They pushed to get out of every crevice in her body.
She convulsed and fell over as she vomited what appeared to be black, sticky tar over the side of the beast. It fell into the oblivion below, and she almost fell herself.
But Kiran shouted and grabbed her before she slipped off.
Imani tried to reach for her wand, to somehow calm the magic she knew was going insane inside her. Instead, Kiran grabbed it before it fell.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she convulsed again. More shadows spilled from her, and she could feel their voices surrounding her, droning and groaning so loudly she thought her head might explode.
Her limbs flung wide as she felt her being spinning off in total darkness, yet she could still feel Kiran’s arm locked around her, holding her tight. Black. It was so black, and barren, and as cold as the grave.
The droning sound continued. It was violent, and Imani wished she would just lose consciousness so she wouldn’t have to hear it.
“Imani!” Kiran shouted, but she barely heard him.
Because she was looking down at herself now, an apparition floating above her own body, drifting on her back like a helpless lump of flesh and bone.
Indeed, Imani floated onward in an endless void, a forever-night so deep and empty that icy terror filled her.
Every molecule of her body began to shift, and swirl, and dissolve until, finally, she couldn’t see herself or feel herself. She was her shadows—she no longer existed.
This was it, the end—Imani was dying.
Endless worlds and realms rushed past her, a neon whirl of purple and orange lights shot across the edges of her vision as Imani floated through darkness.
As her sense of self was swallowed by a vortex of stars, Kiran’s voice rang through her like a boom of thunder. “IMANI!”
Like a cord snapping, she jerked. It was as if she felt her body in two places—one in Kiran’s arms, the other above.
Down below, a horrible pressure built inside Imani’s skull, undulating through her blood.
Her veins felt like dark clouds growing to maximum capacity, the storm inside still building and building.
Something was inside her, not herself. It grabbed hold of the fibers of her being and wrenched them forward.
Suddenly, the colors folded in on themselves, dropping her back into the sea of blackness—no stars, no white light, no sound, nothing.
“For Saints’ sake, how many souls has she consumed, Kiran?” Zadie’s voice was a biting hiss.
“How the fuck should I know? I wasn’t aware she was consuming any souls,” Kiran hissed back. “It’s highly taboo for elves, and even so, only a few can manage it. How was I supposed to know?”
A long pause stretched out between them.
“Because she’s an heir, and you should’ve anticipated it. Now she might die before we can take her to him.”
Imani’s eyes squinted open, everything blurred together. She lolled her head to the side and saw they were on a grassy knoll. Something glimmered at the tree line, but she couldn’t quite make it out. She might be going crazy, but it looked like Ara, standing amongst the shadows, watching over her.
“Wake up, Imani.” Ara’s voice sounded so real inside her head. “Wake up before he gets here, and for gods’ sake, find your strength. I didn’t spend a decade training you to fucking die like this.”
Oh yes, that was definitely Ara—or Imani’s best imaginary impression of her.
She pulled herself away from the apparition—or hallucination—and struggled to clear her vision.
When Imani could see again, it was no longer as dark as it had been in the slip. Instead, a sky made of a shimmering golden dark color blanketed out above her. A color she’d never seen before.
Imani stared up at the twinkling stars, wondering how there could be so many. They winked into existence as the Fabric’s lights danced and whirled in a beautiful whirling dance. Also … one wholly unfamiliar to her.
Fear lodged within her chest, spreading wide like some black, winged creature. Imani gripped her wand tight in one hand and flexed her fist with the other.
It was oddly quiet in her head now.
Lips quivering, her body still trembled uncontrollably. She tried to look around but could only see the strange golden darkness above.
Someone’s fingers twined around hers, and Imani squeezed, wanting to get the feeling back in her limbs. Or some semblance of control.
Soft, golden light filtered through their clasped fingers as a magical signature combined with her own.
Imani’s body tingled as life trickled into it slowly, surely, little more than a steady drip.
Imani found the strength to shove that dark power deeper, ignoring the low hum inside her as she held her wand tighter.
The tension in her ribs eased, and she gasped, filling her lungs with air.
The skin around her chest warmed, and the bruises that covered her body—or were they shadows? —began to fade away.
She shuddered one last time, shaking her head to clear it.
Towering trees came into view. A bed of pine needles lay underneath her.
Disgust curdled in her belly as Imani realized how close she had been to losing herself to her own power. At how she had to be saved. Healed.
A face appeared above hers, blocking out the strange night sky.
“Can you hear me, Imani?” Kiran asked then placed a kiss on the back of her hand. He was worried—for her or for his sacrifice, she didn’t know.
Sitting up slowly, Imani turned and took him in. His eyes looked tired, and his hair was a mess, as if he’d been tearing his hands through it for days without brushing it. Dark circles surrounded his eyes as he scanned over her carefully, studying her.
“Where are we?” she rasped. At least Imani could think clearly again.
His hold on her hand tightened. Imani tried to pull away, but the prince was far stronger than her and held her in place.
“You’re going to listen to me first,” he all but growled at her and held firm.
A noose around her neck tightened the longer she struggled in his grip. Her eyes bulged as she remembered the binding, and her lip curled in anger.
“You must look at me, and you must listen to me here.”
Nostrils flaring, Imani tried to ignore it, but she couldn’t.
The pull forced her to peer up into his stupidly handsome face.
Everything he said was true, and Imani hated it.
Hated what the binding required of her, hated that she couldn’t let Kiran in, hated that she wanted to trust him, but that he knew she was so alone in this life and had taken advantage of it, repeatedly.
She hated this moment—this agreement. It was a reminder of her failure.
Hated, hated, hated. If he kept pushing her like this, without the Drasil, she would certainly die.
She needed to find the wand more than ever. And she would, at whatever cost.
The prince looked upon Imani with savage regard, giving her a smile like she was fucking prey. And it did something to her.
A spark of herself burst back to life, and she found the power to rip her hand away. “Where. Are. We?”
How she was able to fight the binding for even just a moment, she didn’t know. But Kiran didn’t seem bothered.
He let himself smile again, a triumphant, malicious look.
A loose tendril of hair fell across her forehead, and he tucked it behind her ear. His hand was splattered with blackness, like blood.
“Welcome to the Under, my darling.”
Terror gripped her heart, and Imani felt like she was falling again through the slip.
The ground seemed to shift beneath her, and she looked around widely, trying to take in everything she could about this new realm.
It certainly felt different than home and was different if the sky proved anything.
Imani had heard of slips taking people to other places in the Mesial realm, but a doorway? That was the only magic that could take them to another realm. How had Kiran found one unsealed? All the doorways had been sealed ten thousand years ago, after the First Realm War.
She stared at him and scoffed. Then, wanting distance, she backed away from him on all fours. Kiran just smiled cruelly at her like she was pathetic. Maybe she was, but she didn’t care.
Her back hit a tree trunk and, finally, she found her voice. “Where is the wyvern?”
“Gone while we finish our business. I will call him back when needed.”
“Why have you brought me here?”
Kiran stayed where he was, but every muscle in his body tensed. He didn’t deign to answer her.
She fisted her hand around her wand and narrowed her eyes at him.
“I’m running out of patience.” The soft caress of Imani’s dark magic tainted the air again.
It was like a constant halo around her. Even as she tried to pull it back, dissipating wisps of dark vapors surrounded her, ever-present.
Her magic was far more potent here than at home, especially with the extra power coursing through her.
Looking around, Imani realized he’d frozen time. Esa and Zadie stood in mid-conversation, their mouths gaping open.
“Let them go,” she demanded.
Through the strands of his curled locks that rested messily on his forehead, that flash of startling black hit Imani, darkening his eyes further. Widening them. His chilled stare carved down Imani in a way that almost frayed her vicious intentions down to nothing.
He didn’t like being told what to do, but she held firm.
“Let. Them. Go.” Her voice was like a whip across his face.