All the time, all the energy the pixies spent lovingly restoring their home, washed away in minutes. Another reminder of how fleeting everything is in the cruel expanse of merciless universe.
“How do I do that?” I ask.
Before he can answer, Marina flickers into existence between us. Tiernan leaps aside with a surprised start that would be comical if the world wasn’t falling to ruins around us.
You ask it,she signs with a small smile.
I resist the urge to shake her, as water begins to trickle over the edge of the balcony to soak the stone beneath our feet. “Is right now really the moment for more riddles and nonsense?”
The Lunaedon is separate from Niko now, but it was borne of his magic. His heart. And so it will always listen to his command.
“Niko isn’t here,” I bite out, his name alone enough to spike my worry. For him, facing the Aeternalis alone. For me, without his shield from the shadow. For Letum, balanced precariously on the edge of ruin and salvation.
Marina’s gaze is steady.You are of Niko’s heart. So you command it just as he does.
My breath hitches, understanding washing over me as surely as the water. Niko never meant to transfer ownership of the Lunaedon to me—it hadn’t been a calloused scheme, nor a contingency for when he died. It happened simply because he loved me.
I swallow down the sudden heat in my throat, and dive deep into the waiting pool of magic. It rises to my touch, infinite colors swirling in my mind. I use them all—shades of deep blues and dark purples that tangle into the abiding onyx of the stone; the tangerine of sunrises on the glass, and the pinks that streak over the grounds when it sets. I paint the balustrades with lines so delicate, they could be lace. I fill in the skulls carved over the front gates, and the stories wound around the border. I paint Wendy’s garden, and the simple rock path leading to the doors.
It is no strain, because all of it lives inside my heart. In my bones. In my blood.
I paint home.
I ignore the way the shadow begins to writhe; ignore the way it caresses my neck, and curls between my ribs. Awake andexcitedat the prospect of using more magic. I focus only on my painting. It is the most detailed piece I’ve ever attempted, as I create not only the Lunaedon, but an entirely new path leading to it through time and space.
My heart pulls painfully taut as my magic drains into the painting, until not a drop of color remains in the well. The island’s rises in turn, filling my veins, imbuing each stroke of my brush with its power. I know what it will cost; know that to allow it into myself is to give up something precious. I feel it now—the way its potent energy eats away at everything it touches, ever reaching for a source to sustain it.
I am not enough for the island, but I am enough to save it.
With a cry of fury, I push the painting outside of myself. It is a rush like no other—a dizzying high, followed by a crashing emptiness. It resounds through my chest, echoes behind my ribs and carves itself into my heart.
An emptiness the shadow immediately fills, crawling into every crevice, its crow of victory echoing above the roar of the water. It had been confined to my chest, and then it had beenoutside of me, but now—now it iseverywhere.I feel its urges in the movement of my fingers and in the breaths of my lungs. I feel the buzz of it in my thoughts, and the demands of its hunger in the marrow of my bones.
I’ve allowed it too much space, and it will never give it back. The shadow is ingrained in every part of me, too tightly woven to ever be undone. I teeter on the edge of a blade—one wrong step, one errant gust of destiny—and I will lose the last piece of myself forever.
This is the beginning of the end. I know it in the way one senses a storm before it breaks over the horizon. But I cannot bring myself to regret the price I’ve paid. For when I open my eyes, an ornate window shimmers before me. Inlaid, beautiful—and open to the grounds of the Lunaedon.
Once quiet and barren, the palace now teems with life. Pixies are sprawled over the neat grass, their wings flickering in the starlight. Some crouch on all fours coughing up sea water, while others call out, searching for their loved ones in the growing crowd. Tears of relief pour from cheeks, cries of gratitude drifting up toward the star as they fall to their knees.
Safe. They’re all safe.
“Star above, Willa,” Tiernan says, staring through the glass in wide-mouthed awe. “That was…magnificent.”
He doesn’t know what I’ve done to save so many—doesn’t realize the danger now lurking beside him.
The shadow wraps itself around my throat, squeezing until every breath is a painful gasp. Its desires thread through my limbs, moving my fingers toward Tiernan. Hunger spears through me, and it takes everything I have left to keep from lunging at him.
His suffering echoes in the stone,the darkness whispers through me.Let us drink every humiliation, every hurt. Let us bestow more in the tomb of his agony.
“You guys go ahead…” I manage faintly. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Tiernan nods, stowing his sword at his hip. He glances around the Hollows once more, before ducking through the window. A moment later, I see him on the Lunaedon grounds, bombarded by fawning pixies.
Marina makes no move to follow him, watching me with an impenetrable stare. I try to keep my breathing even—to keep the emptiness in my chest from showing in my eyes.
The little pixie hesitates, and what remains of my heart will always be grateful for her pause. For the unabashed way that she loves, with no regard to what the affection will earn her.
“Go find Chrys,” I tell her softly. “She needs you.”
