“Show yourself!”
The air stirred violently, more dust and dirt flying as a dark swath gathered in the distance. Twisted laughter echoed all around her, rife with scorn. “You are worthless and broken, you daft witch. You wish to confront me? I dare you.”
Lungs heaving, she tried to make sense of the creature bathed in shadow and gloom as she went forward on unsteady feet.
It turned to mist and rushed her, cackling as it pulled her hair. “Useless fool,” it whispered directly into her ear. “How many have been hurt because of you? How many have you letdown? Your parents, your mate. Even entire realms. Dead or suffering, because of you.”
Lunara spun in place as it whipped like a cyclone around her, an elusivesomethingpounding in her skull.
It manifested again mere feet away, looming above her and poised like a snake ready to strike. “Why do you even bother when you do nothing but fail?”
“What do you want from me?” Her demand sounded far more steady than she felt.
More hideous laughter rippled out, every mirthless chuckle slicing through her like a hot knife. “I want you to admit what a waste of space you are. That your life has been utterly pointless. Maybe I’ll leave you alone. Maybe not. Only one way to find out.”
Lunara fucking hated the tears that sprang forth, despised that she’d had that exact thought on lonely nights, even as she welcomed the seething piece of her that wished tofight.
So many stars-forsaken voices, slinking in and thinking to control her. Telling her what to do, who she was, how to be. Even Endellion had been a torture at times. Now this? No more. Her own damned thoughts weren’t even?—
“We speak to ourselves in the cruelest tone, don’t we? It’s your voice, but… not. A mantra that you beat against yourself, murmured painfully in the silence of your own mind.”
Every jagged, horrible whip.
Shitting, fucking stars.
Lunara stumbled back, nausea swirling as the creature stepped into a pocket of light and showed itself. She’d said those words to Brand what felt like a lifetime ago, and here they were—a monster staring back at her with dull eyes and sallow skin, a sickening grin exposing sharpened teeth waiting to tear her apart.
A monster that washer.
“Yes. Now you understand.” It crept forward until it was only inches away. “Youdid this. You wish to fight yourself? You’re even crazier than we thought.”
It was like looking into a cursed mirror. Lunara tried to keep her breaths even, tried not to sob, as she took in the lanky, stringy hair framing its grotesque visage. The tattered scraps of fabric barely covering gnarled and wasted limbs.
Reaching out a clawed hand, it ran a finger down Lunara’s cheek. “Now you see how truly helpless you are.” She finally heard the familiar notes of her own voice being twisted into something obscene. “Give in. Accept it. We will never be more than this.”
Sisters help her, but part of Lunara believed it, even if she didn’t fully understand. “What isthis,exactly?”
The creature swelled, growing until it towered above her. “Thisis every lonely hour and unbearable day. Every horrific memory. Lost innocence and forgotten dreams. Isolation. Belittlement. Ignorance. Failure. Betrayal. Pain.” It bent and gripped Lunara by the front of her dress. “This is hatred, and there is nothing more powerful.”
With a flick of its wrist, Lunara was thrown across the chasm and into the cliffside, crumpling to the ground in a breathless heap. Its taloned foot was digging into her chest before she could right herself, pinning her to the ground. “Give in to the bitterness. Accept your spite. I will nurture it and wield a power so mighty that the realms will quake before us.”
Lunara raised her eyes and met the familiar gaze staring back at her—blue orbs swirling and hypnotizing, pulling her in to their darkest depths.
Loathing filled her, sizzling down every nerve ending. Resentment wrapped itself around her like an old, beloved blanket. Power winked at her fingertips, deeper than before,drawing as much from the misery she held close as it did from the well.
This part of herself had saved her countless times before. Protected her, kept her company.
“Yes, let the darkness flow. Let it refashion you into something greater, so we may crush all in our path and have our vengeance.”
She wanted vengeance with every fiber of her being. Wanted to scream it out over the land until her mate was returned to her.
Except, Lunara didn’t want realms to quake before her. She hardly wanted to leave bed most mornings. Crushing all in her path would make her no better than Malachyr and the Council. And darkness? Darkness was the fucking problem.
This part of herself had saved her, but it had hurt her, too. Had convinced her so many times that she wasless.
She wanted her vengeance, but not like this.
Not when she could still hear Brand—louder, stronger, more fierce—telling her she was all that was lovely and blessed in this world. Everything that was good. Not when he’d plucked her from the edge of death, over and over, and held her through the worst of herself.
