The shadows purred, circling around my ankles like a house cat.
Vengeance
Retribution.
A life for a life.
A death for a death.
He couldn’t have been older than twenty-one, his pale skin without the blessed-markings of a true soldier. His bow was clutched within his hand, broken and limp, but still he held tight to it. The shadows curved over his cheek and I couldtastehis fear.
“What is your name?” I murmured, but my voice was not my own. It was low and hissing, like a thousand different voices all blended to one and spilled from my lips.
He spat at my feet.
And the shadows lunged. It took only seconds, the darkness enveloping him whole. His screams were gagged as the shadows poured down his throat, through his eyes, his ears.
When they retreated nothing was left but bone, not even a drop of blood upon the snow.
The darkness exploded again, not at my command, spearing through the clearing and soon the few remaining Solerian soldiers were reduced to nothing but skeletons on the forest floor.
The battle ended in seconds.
Silence fell and my eyes drifted to where Roan and Kairen stood. Shock marred both their features. Roan took a hesitant step forward, “Syra…”
But Kairen’s hand found immediately his arm, voice low, but still it carried through the clearing. “Give her a minute… It's not—her eyes are black Roan. It’s not her right now. That’s not Syra.”
I saw the way the Prince of Sun and Flame stared at me, the uneasiness in his gaze, but I did not feel anything as I moved, quietly and slowly, back to kneel by his side.Bran.
“You’re Luanthian, shadow-blessed,” Rena spoke softly, though she did not move from her spot beside his body. It was not a question exactly, but uncertainty lingered in her words.
I didn’t answer. I simply sat in the snow and pressed my forehead to Bran’s chest. The shadows slithered over us—slower and weaker now, but still there. Always there.
I don't know how long we sat there, no one speaking despite the grief and shock that hung in the cold air. It felt like such a long time before Rena’s voice came again, my mind hazy as I tried to listen.
“Syra,” Rena whispered, my name uneasy on her lips. “Look.”
My head lifted, gaze narrowing as a group of horses broke through the trees, hooded figures sitting atop them.
Fear not.
The shadows crooned.
They are not adversaries,
but friends come to heed our call.
My back turned, gaze upon the boy who lay in the snow. He looked so cold, his body made of earth and fire. It wasn’t right, everything waswrong.
“Shadow-blessed,” I heard the voice call, old and rasping. “We have waited for you for such a long time.”
My shoulders shook, hands clutching his tunic, soaked in blood. The shadows spilled from me in rivers of black, twisting and writhing as they felt the grief slowly sink within me, deeper and deeper it went. Like a well with no bottom.
“Come, Miss Syra.”
A different voice. I knew that voice.
“I can’t leave him.”
