I’m here,I told them, taking a shot in the dark.
I imagined that vibrational shield again, and my hands began to thrum—tingling with energy. Eyes still shut, I pushedthe vibration into my palms, through the whip, snaking it down along the line of bones.
A completely new sensation filled me. Sparks of life blossomed through my veins.
Warmth spread from my toes, up through my legs, my torso, down my arms, prickling through my hands until—vines.
Thin, twisting green vines began to wrap around the whip, coiling tighter and tighter as they wove up the entire length.
I could feel them constricting, as if my own muscles were mirroring the motion.
The final spiral of vine twisted near my hands. A dark green stem sprouted upward, forming a tight bud. Slowly, it opened to reveal a sharp, vibrant orange flower with the appearance of a hummingbird suckling for nectar.
I recognized it—Bird of Paradise.
Dark tendrils of shadow scurried over the ground, as if watching.
Were those Pogue’s. But he was—?My thoughts cleaved in two as I watched the transforming magic.
With a red flash, the flower and vines vanished into the whip. No,absorbedinto it.
The whip suddenly exploded into the air, shattering into countless fragments.
I clutched my chest, feeling the blast ripple through me. And with an exhale, the magic released.
The souls trapped inside the whip were setfree. Handfuls of glistening orbs danced above, spinning excitedly through the air.
Free!
We’re free!
I couldfeeleach one’s relief, excitement, euphoria.
But dread swiftly shot through me, realizing they’d actually beentrapped.And for how long?
I’d never heard of that being possible. Souls could be lost under certain circumstances of death, sure—but trapped? And inside an object? It was barbaric. Some deep malevolent magic.
A deathly shriek pierced my eardrums as white-bladed teeth flew forward, crunching into my shoulder. My flesh violently tore open, its head thrashing back and forth, cracking bone.
Stars exploded throughout my vision as I was overtaken by sheer agony.
Warm liquid poured down my skin, spilling across my chest.
The sounds—crunching,gulping.
Dying. I was dying.
Again . . .
My body went limp, giving in to the shadow of death, to a darkness sweeping through the forest, coming to collect me.
No.You can’t have me.
My soul rebelled as I mustered what little strength I had and lifted my thumb. Weakly, a slow circle traced over my purple gemstone ring, hoping it wouldn’t be too late.
8
CARWYNN
