For a blinding moment, I feel only fury. A writhing pit of it.
I have lived most my life with the heat of anger in my veins. It has driven me forward; it has kept me alive.
Lately though, it is different—less like a wildfire and more like a starving beast. Like something fractured inside me themoment Niko died, a fissure through which the enraged animal escaped, its jaws hungry enough to devour me whole; its teeth sharp enough to snap every tether keeping me anchored to my humanity.
Choking down my rage, I draw close enough to lay my hands on the ruined pixie. Her skin is cold beneath my palms, and when I close my eyes, the pixie’s face is burned behind my eyelids; etched onto my memory; intertwined with my regret. I saved so many by anchoring myself to the island, more than I ever thought myself capable of. But when I close my eyes, I only see the ones I didn’t.
The ones who waited in the depths of the Hollows for two centuries, forgotten beneath the earth, damned to an eternity of darkness and pain.
And though I know they were grateful for the relief of death, the injustice of it all still eats at me: that they suffered for so long; that their screams were silenced by miles of rock; that I saved so many when I brought Niko back to life, but only those who’d been near my magic.
The beast claws at my chest—its rage shadowing everything else, even as I close my eyes to paint the pixie whole in order to spare her family the pain of knowing the agony she endured. But as the painting takes shape in my mind with delicate strokes and soft highlights, the shadows remain.
No matter what I do: my ragealwaysremains.
And when I push my magic outside of myself, this time, the shadows come out with it.
My eyes fly open at the painful tug in my chest, so much sharper than usual. A gasp chokes the air from my lungs, and I tumble to the floor, certain, for a wild moment, that my magic has somehow shredded through my heart.
I blink at the pixie who now lays beside me, her ruined body healed, her face so serene she could be asleep. I shouldbe relieved at the sigh—my magic worked—but it is only heavy dread that settles over me as I slowly turn away from her ethereal face to stare directly above me.
Where the cave ceiling should be, there is only shadow.
An undulating mass, a void deeper than even Niko’s death. Like the fabric of the universe has been ripped, and I’m gazing into the nothingness that existed before it.
The shadows quiver, the unnatural movement sending a rush of nausea barreling up my throat.
Because I feel the echo of the movement in my chest. Exactly where my rage resided only moments before, but now feels…empty.Have I somehow given my rage form? Is this what it looks like? A tangle of horror and darkness?
I never get an answer. The dark mass stills as if it watches me. My heartbeat flails against my ribs as I stare back. Then, without warning, the shadows rush toward me with a violent howl and the world goes mercifully black, leaving a shocked scream still trapped in my throat.
Chapter two
The shadows burn.Mine,they call as they slide down my throat, singeing my lungs.Mine,they whisper as they fill my mouth, stifling my screams.Mine,they croon as they dive into the pool of magic behind my heart, staining the shimmering colors with their void.
I writhe wildly, but I find no air. No light. Only an endless chasm that is at once barren and smothering. It takes and takes until I am empty, then fills the emptiness with shades of sin, each one an agonizing lick of flame. How can something made of me feel so foreign? Sowrong.
My panic surges as I flail, fighting in vain against the invisible force. I tumble into the recesses of it, clawing to keep from losing myself entirely. But I find no purchase, for there is nothing to hold onto. There is nothing but me and the shadow.
Come to me now, Darling.
The whispered voice is icy, a soothing balm against the heat of my fear. It is only an echo in the recesses of my soul—a fleeting feeling of a past I still ache for—but it is tangible enough to grabhold. I dig my fingers desperately into the memory, drawing black blood beneath my nails, clinging to the small comfort in the endless void.
Come to me now, Darling. I’m what’s true.
The words flow through me, expanding in a buoyant cloud until I’m no longer falling, but floating. Toward the only thing that’s ever felt true.
A breath shoots from my lungs as I jolt awake. I blink up at the cavern ceiling with stinging eyes. My lantern lays shattered on the floor, the only light coming from the blue-green glow of the moss. There is no sign of the horrible mass of shadows; no sign of the voice that’s haunted my dreams for the past year. The only sound is the rapid beat of my own heart and the softtick, tick, tick,of water dripping down the cave walls.
There is nothing here. Only me and the dead.
What the fuck just happened? Did I imagine it all?
My mouth and throat feel like they’ve been stuffed with cotton, each swallow painful and dry. My head is throbbing, my muscles achy and sore like I’ve run ten miles. I breathe out a pained huff and attempt to get my arms beneath me. They wobble uselessly, and I collapse back to the stone.
Tiernan has been nagging me about pushing myself too far. The island isn’t entirely healed yet, and its demand on my magic is draining enough beyond what I’ve been doing down here every day. Maybe he’s right. Maybe the lack of sleep and the constant anxiety have finally pushed me over the edge, and I’ve had some sort of fit.
Even in the land of dreams, shadows aren’talive.They don’t burst from people’s chests and attempt to swallow them whole.
