He doesn’t even look amused. Typical. “You’ve done this before instinctively. Do it again. Only now, with purpose.”
Right. Instinctively. Like the time I killed someone by accident and then he stole the body, throwing me into a panic. Fantastic example.
Still, I take a breath and lift my hand. The air crackles faintly, and the sphere brightens, responding to something inside me. A thread of warmth curls through my chest,snaking down my arm until it reaches my fingertips. I can feel it, like a heartbeat that isn’t mine.
The energy stretches between me and the sphere, a shimmering tether. It’s beautiful and terrifying all at once.
“Good,” Malrik murmurs. “Now, take.”
I don’t want to, but I do. Because that’s what he expects. Because that’s what Iam.
The moment I pull, heat rushes through my veins, heady and sharp. The crystal’s glow dims as mine flares brighter, gold bleeding into my vision. I feel powerful—an all-consuming sensation. The pull is intoxicating. Every instinct screams to keep going, to take it all, to feel that unbearable fullness that means I’m alive.
But a whisper of a memory begins to push in. I’m at the creek with Cade, leaning toward the ethereal flower, its energy calling to me like a siren.
It hits me like a strike to the chest. I blink hard, breath stuttering, and I hold onto it—the glimmer of the petals, trembling under the light of the moon. A fragile kind of beauty you protect, not destroy, yet if Cade hadn’t been with me, I’d have been the one who shattered.
That’s who I was. But not who Iwantto be.
Not becoming the one who does the shattering appeals to me most.
Heal, give, restore.
With a gasp, I push back. The energy surges from my hands, back into the sphere, renewing it with light. The glow steadies, and I don’t collapse this time. My knees shake, sure, but I’m still standing.
When I glance up, Malrik is watching me with a face that gives away nothing, but eyes that say everything.
“Better,” he offers softly, though his tone makes the word sound like a threat. “Control through choice. More progress.”
I wipe the sweat from my brow and shoot him a look as I fall back into the persona of Stubborn Rowan, who couldn’t care less aboutprogress. “Congratulations. You’ve officially turned me into a human nightlight. You must be so proud.”
He tilts his head, lips twitching like he’s fighting a smile. “You mock what you fear. It’s a common defense.”
“I mockyoubecause you make it so easy,” I counter with a wink. “You’re like a motivational poster stapled to a crime scene.”
A soft laugh escapes him—surprisingly genuine—and for a moment, the tension in the room breaks. But only briefly.
“Again,” he says, and just like that, the warmth dies from his expression.
I stare at him, exasperated. “You really need a hobby.”
“I have one,” he replies smoothly. “You.”
My stomach knots at that, though I mask it with a smirk. “Lucky me.”
Yet, even as I raise my hand again, feeling the pulse of the magic beneath my skin, I can’t help but wonder which one of us is actually winning this game—him for pushing me, or me for surviving it.
By the time Malrik dismisses me, my body feels like it’s been wrung out and hung up to dry. The door opens without a word from him, and I take that as my cue to leave before he decides I haven’t suffered enough character development for the day.
The hallway outside buzzes quietly, the faint silver veins along the walls dimmed like The Keep itself is also done with the day.
Every muscle aches as I trudge back toward my room. I half expect the house to offer some cryptic advice, but it’s silent today. No tricks. Just me, my thoughts, and the ghost of my wolf, no longer pacing in the dark corner of my mind.
I reach for her, the way I haven’t been able to stop doing since I got here, but there’s still nothing. No warmth. No whisper. Not even a flicker. Just empty static.
“Still giving me the cold shoulder,” I mutter. “Fine. Be that way. I’m doing great without you.”
Spoiler alert: I amnotdoing great without her.
