I could feel my power clawing under my skin, begging to be unleashed.
"Use it. Use your magic."
The thought was noxious, curling inside my skull, relentless. But if I gave in, they would see exactly what I was.
They’d see I was Wraith Borne.
But if I didn’t, we were already dead.
I reached for it. The darkness in my blood, my birthright. But the power that answered my summons wasn’t the familiar lethal pulse I had spent a lifetime hiding.
The magic that hummed beneath my skin was sharp and hungry, burning through my chest and rushing toward my fingertips. When I released my hold on the magic, shadows unfurled from my palm in thick, oily ribbons, coiling around my wrists and up my arms.
“What the hell?” Disbelief held me captive as I watched the inky tendrils writhe and dance, caressing my skin as though we were old friends.
I blinked, momentarily stunned, as darkness rippled across my hands and licked at the air in front of me. The guards, who’d been advancing, stumbled in surprise, and even Eamon paused, his lips parted, blood streaking his jaw.
“Cadence?” The uncertainty in his tone mirrored my own.
Before I could dwell on it, a guard lunged, and instinct took over. The shadows lashed out, slamming him across the room so hard his skull bounced off the stone.
I stared at my hands, unable to reconcile what I was seeing.
This wasn’t my magic. It belonged to someone else.
Ryker.
Panic flared to life inside me, but I forced myself to stay grounded. If I hesitated, we’d die.
So, I let the shadows loose.
Fighting erupted all around me as dark ribbons churned and writhed, flying from my palms as if I’d torn open some secret chest long forgotten. I let the darkness off its leash, and theshadows lashed out, slamming into guards and sending them careening into the walls.
Bone shattered. Armor crumpled. Screams ripped through the air.
But I wasn’t done.
I tugged harder, and the black tide answered my call, sharper and more vicious than ever. It hunted the enemy like starving beasts, wrapping around the throat of one guard, while pinning another to the ground, crushing his chest until his ribs caved.
The wet pop of bone was the only sound I could hear as blood painted my hands and cheeks.
Still, they kept coming, and I kept killing.
Then Eamon’s voice rose above the din, rough and desperate. “Cadence.” I spun toward him, and my stomach dropped. “Run.”
A blade jutted from his abdomen, the tip glistening wet and stained red. Anguish twisted his features, and he parted his mouth on a gasp. A guard stood behind him, grinning as he drove the sword deeper.
“Eamon!”
Blood bubbled from his lips as his knees hit the ground. A scream ripped from my chest, feral and animalistic.
My feet obeyed before my mind understood, but fate had moved faster. Eamon was already falling.
“No. No, no, no…”
I caught him as he fell, my hands already slick with blood. Warmth, thick and wet, poured over my fingers as I pressed hard, trying to stop the bleeding, but it kept coming.
Eamon’s gaze found mine. His lips trembled as he tried to smile, and I saw the apology there. The promise that he would have killed them all for me if he could.
