Chapter Forty-Two
Avari
Frustration. By definition, it is the feeling of upset born from the inability to reach a target, a feeling that had haunted me all my life and even more so for the past hour as my father and brother cheered me on to cook up some shadows.
Anger, by definition, is an emotion characterised by hostility, and that was exactly what simmered beneath my skin as they showed off their abilities with little effort.
Disappointed in myself and my failures through the past few days of training, I feared they were right. Maybe I shared their blood. I just didn’t share their abilities.
‘Listen, Ava. I get it; it’s difficult, much more difficult than at a younger age when one doesn’t yet have any preconceived notions about power. I believe that is what is blocking you from the darkness. You are trying too hard to understand something that must be felt.’
Yet again, I was doing something wrong. ‘How do I reach for something I do not understand nor feel?’
‘You can’t.’ Alec chimed in, chasing his stray dog with coils of velvety black clouds. As helpful as always.
I blew air through my nose, pinching the bridge as if it could give me patience. ‘Well then, sorry to waste your time. I might be your daughter, but I am not a shadow-wielder.’
The lord rebutted, ‘Don’t be absurd; I would not have sensed you if you weren’t one of the shadows.’ The palm of his hand outstretched in my direction, he nodded towards it. ‘Here. Connect.’
‘What?’ Did I hear him right? Parents usually exchanged with their offspring for training purposes, but that happened when they were children. As adults, it would just be odd.
‘Feel my shadows, you will know what to look for in yourself. Come on.’ He grasped our hands together, waiting for my decision. He was eager, happy to do this for me.
Should I even attempt it?
They might be my family, but trust didn’t come that easily.
Although they treated me kindly, I still felt ashamed to admit I didn’t fully trust them with my life or my power, which could be drained and leave me lifeless.
But as I looked at my father, offering himself to help me, I realised he could have the same fears.
That I might drain him instead. Yet he waited, hand encasing mine, guiding me into the shadows.
It wasn’t easy, not after so many betrayals, but I slowly released my fire and green to meet his darkness. Reluctant at first, my flames hissed at his shadows before they finally settled like two predators forced to share a cage.
The connection felt different to when I had done it with River; colder.
The darkness itself was strange, like a warm pool of void that allowed its wielder to decide what it would become.
Unlike my fire, a force born only to burn, the shadows offered endless possibilities, a craft of creation and concealment.
It reminded me of witchcraft: my green power thrived on connection, but this darkness seemed to thrive in disconnect, a blissful silence and solitude that felt freeing, though not lonely.
Letting go of my father’s hand, I couldn’t ignore the sorrow that followed. The brief link only added to the growing list of things my heart yearned for. I was never power-hungry, but as I sharpened my senses to summon a pool of my own rich black, nothing greeted me.
Frowning and cursing under my breath, it was all I could do to avoid my father’s pitiful gaze.
‘You’ll get there, love.’ He patted my back before heading toward Alec.
It seemed I had looked pathetic enough, so they decided to leave me alone, or maybe they assumed I had performance anxiety. Either way, they left, and as I focused harder than ever, I saw only one path left.
The land itself would instruct me.
Hands sinking into the dark grass, I let my witchcraft roam before directing it toward the pulsing essence of the isle beneath my feet. The earth vibrated, electric in the air, feeding the fields with steady bursts of energy.
It brimmed with life, though at first it shied from my touch, as if surprised by such sudden attention. I almost laughed at the game of hide and seek we played. Before long, weighing the risks, I let my green dive deeper into the roots of the Isles.
The divine river of life and earth welcomed me, toying with my power as a child toys with something curious. It pulled and stretched, but never enough to hurt.
It was learning me as I was learning it.
Power to power, the sentient land guided me through the depths of its home: the caves; the cities; the villages and lakes; the monsters and the wildlife; and the living and the dead resting in cemeteries and beyond.
I wondered why I had never connected with any other land to such depth before.
As if understanding, the Isles dragged me further down to its core, revealing a thrashing inferno of light-blue life force that had always been there, though never seen.
The message was clear: dig deeper in my connections and in my shadow-wielding.
When I searched through my body one last time, I could swear I felt a sliver of darkness lurking within.
When I surfaced from the trance, satisfaction pulsed through me like sunlight after endless rain.
I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face.
The constant failure had been grinding me down, but this felt like a step in the right direction.
Maybe I had been too hard on myself, considering everything fate kept throwing my way.
My lips stretched wider than they had since I arrived in the shadow lands, and I was greeted by an equally enthusiastic Miriam.
‘Look at you! You can smile!’ She chuckled, and I was happy to see her own sour mood had cleared.
Snorting, I stopped beside her, enjoying the company. ‘I know, it’s a wild concept, isn’t it?’
The red-eyed nightmare-inducer stepped closer. ‘May I ask what sparked such a change of heart?’
I didn’t get a chance to answer before Alec interrupted, ‘The family portrait, of course.’ He showed off a pout. ‘Can’t you see I’m just as excited?’
I laughed before being called over to the plain wall, where three chairs stood next to each other as our father joined, standing behind us.
A lithe, dark-haired woman dressed in red and covered by a black apron arranged her painting supplies, preparing the canvas before her dull eyes moved to assess us.
They gave me palpitations.
Those eyes, the rich amber tones locked in an intentful gaze, looked too familiar. They looked so alike… the soft brown waves of hair, the sharp jawline. But River claimed his mother was dead. It had hurt him enough to remove her portraits from the castle.
The hours she spent sketching blurred for me, a broken kaleidoscope of self-doubt and fleeting hunches, as I tried to find a reasonable explanation.
If she really was their mother, then another thread of River’s lies had unravelled before me. Trading me to the Isles was one thing, but lying about his mother cut deeper than any betrayal. He had never opened up to me the way I had to him. It had all been a lie.
She worked for hours, pencil then brush, mixing paints into shades I hadn’t realised existed. When she finally packed her supplies and agreed on a completion date, I caught sight of her speaking quietly with my father. Their hushed exchange left me uneasy.
When they went their separate ways, I couldn’t stop myself from following. My mind focused solely on the truth. Just as she reached for the door handle, I stopped her with a tap on the shoulder.
Tense and anxious, I fidgeted before the confused woman, unable to tear my eyes from hers. ‘I’m sorry. This is so weird. It’s been a really weird week for me.’
Her nose crinkled, unsure whether to entertain the conversation. Hovering by the door with one hand still on the knob, she asked, ‘How so?’
There was no point lying. ‘Long story short, I’ve essentially been kidnapped here by my brother, on behalf of my father, whom you just spoke to.’
The painter visibly blanched. ‘Are they really your family?’
The reaction worried me. ‘I couldn’t believe it at first, but I’m starting to.’
‘Are they treating you all right?’ The fact she cared enough to ask made my heart clench.
How awful, to get more kindness from a stranger than from my own mother. Scolding myself for even thinking of that wretch, I forced a smile.
‘They’ve been nothing but supportive. Though I would rather if they invited me for dinner than abducted me.’
A deep sigh escaped her before she reached for my hand in a caring gesture. ‘If they are your relatives, then cherish them. Many can only dream of meeting their families.’
I wanted to ask her, needed to, but my mouth refused to cooperate, and the painter left before I ever found the courage to speak.