The only exit is the door I step through, which is slowly closing behind me.
It’s pitch black inside, not even a beam of light, which would normally suit me, but the shadows within this room seem denser than they should be.
The hairs on the back of my neck and along my arms are rising, but not only because of the silent darkness.
In the center of the room are four statues.
They stand in a tight circle, each facing outward with their backs to each other. Even in the darkness, the color of the stone they’ve been carved from is apparent: one is white, the next is golden, then black, and finally crimson. The crimson color is the hardest to make out, but it appears like dark blood.
I can only see the backs of the black and crimson statues.
The one directly facing me—the golden one—is of a woman standing tall, dressed in elaborate armor and carrying a curvedblade strapped to her back. She looks proud and strong, the face of a woman who has had to beat back her enemies.
Curiously, her arms are bent at the elbows, her palms turned up. Maybe in supplication. Maybe in a gesture of peace.
I dare to step farther into the room, examining my surroundings carefully, keeping my footfalls silent. As I veer to the left of the golden statue, the features of the black one become visible.
The breath leaves my chest in awhoosh.
What the…?
It’s a statue of the keeper of dark magic. There he is, looming over me, just as he appeared when I first met him.
His long cloak drapes across his broad shoulders and covers his body from his neck to his feet while his spiked crown sits around his eyes, concealing his sight. Only the lower half of his face is visible, his lips set into an uncompromising line.
He, too, is holding out his arms, but unlike with the golden statue, a book rests in them.
A book with a black binding and golden lettering on the front.
This must be the power that drew me to this chamber.
TheBook of Dark Magic.
A book so dangerous that as I reach for it, my skin crawls and shivers rush up and down my spine.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
My dark wings push and roil within my back and my claws extend and retract. Horrible, out-of-control sensations rush through me while my fingertips hover inches above the surface of the book that destroyed the life I was supposed to have.
It’s finally within my reach. The first step to bringing down my father. And yet…
All I feel is dread.
An undefinable fear.
I know I should take the book and run while I can. Hell, it’s been far too easy to get here and every instinct in my body is telling me I need to leave. Fast.
But my hands are shaking and my palms are sweating and by fuck, I do want run, but it’sawayfrom the book.
My breathing is harsh in my ears, rushing in and out of my mouth while the power within the chamber continues to press in on me, although… strangely… now that I’m standing right in front of the book…
I’m not certain that the power I feel is emanating from it.
My eyes widen with that perilous realization. My hands dart out, but before they can close around the tome, a shadow peels away from the wall to my left.
I spin toward it, leaving the book where it rests. My claws extend as a sibilant voice sounds in the darkness.
“Not so easy, is it?” the voice whispers.
