The light slams into me.
It’s not warm. It’s not gentle. It’s like being kicked in the chest by a horse made of pure electricity. My back arches, a scream tearing from my throat that I can’t even hear over the roar in my ears. It’s not just power; it’s history. It’s centuries of stolen strength, every drop of blood and sweat the Order filched from my line, rushing back home all at once.
It burns through my veins, scrubbing the insides of my skin with wire wool. I taste copper, ozone, and ancient rage.
“Hold it,” Voren commands, his voice cutting through the static. “Don’t let it tear you apart.”
Easy for him to say. I’m currently being inflated like a cheap balloon at a kid’s party.
Dastian is crackling somewhere in the periphery, from the sheer volume of energy, while Dreven’s shadows pin my limbs, so I don’t thrash myself into a concussion.
The flow finally snaps off. I collapse against the stone, gasping, my skin feeling too tight for my body.
“Well,” I wheeze, staring up at the cracked ceiling where dust motes dance in the settling silence. “That was entirely unpleasant.”
Tabitha brushes invisible lint from her coat. “But necessary. You are anchored now, Nyssa. No more phasing.”
I flex my hand. Any godly light that had been shimmering is gone, and I’m just me.
Except superpowered and with a snake for a soul.
All the cuts and bruises I had are gone, signifying rapid healing, and I close my eyes, lying on the cold stone just to breathe for a minute.
“No. More. Power. Transfer. Shit!” I grit out. “I amdonewith being mauled by electricity. Do you hear me? If I’m destined to be any-fucking-thing else, fuck off. I’m not interested.”
“You will pay for this!” Cormac wheezes.
I crack an eye to glare at him and then preferably kill him, but he is gone, along with Finnian. I sit up and look around. “Where did they go?”
“They legged it,” Dastian says, kicking at a pile of dust where Finnian had been groaning only seconds ago. “Rude. I didn’t even get to properly traumatise them.”
I scramble to my feet. I expect the room to spin, but my balance is perfect. Better than perfect.
“Shadow slip,” Dreven growls, his eyes scanning the dark corners of the ruined chamber. “They used the chaos of the transfer to mask their exit.”
“Cowards,” I spit.
“Pragmatists,” Tabitha corrects, stepping over the shattered remains of the syphon jar. She looks entirely too calm for a woman who just helped dismantle her colleague’s secret battery pack. “They have safe houses. But they don’t have active power anymore. That doesn’t mean they are helpless.”
I look at my hands. They look the same, but the air around them ripples. The snake braided into my soul uncoils slightly, purring at the influx of juice. It feels like I’ve swallowed a lightning storm and kept it down out of spite.
Dreven steps over the rubble, his shadows agitated. “Cormac and Finnian won’t stay running. They’ll regroup, and they’ll call in every favour the Order has left.”
“Agreed,” I say. “Let’s get back to my cottage for a bit. I need a tea, food, a shower, and for the snake in my soul to shut the fuck up.”
Voren steps close, his presence is cool against the frantic energy buzzing under my skin. “About that. What aren’t you telling us?”
I glance at him and then avoid his gaze. “Nothing.”
He grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Don’t lie to me, slayer.”
“I’m not.”
His grip tightens. “You shifted into a twenty-foot snake, Nyssa. You have to know why?”
“Do you?”
“You tell me.”
