I feel the shadows again, the way I usually do. So, I call to them, begging them to return to me, to release my friends, to empty from the space. I squeeze my eyes closed and focus on gaining control, on making the shadows do my bidding.
My chest loosens, and I can suddenly take a full breath again. Cautiously, I open my eyes.
The shadows are swirling around us, translucent and smokey, playful even. Antonia is near the door, her eyes wide. Charlotte is on the ground next to me, trying to catch her breath. She pushes herself to all fours, then empties her stomach.
Antonia is by her side in a heartbeat, holding her hair and soothing her. I catch my own breath as I will the last of the shadows away.
The door shatters, all of us screaming, as Nate bursts into the room, sword drawn. Several other guards rush in behind him.
His eyes are wide, his expression hard. He scans the space, then lowers his weapon. “There’s nobody here.”
“We heard screaming,” one of the other guards says.
“There’s a hole over there, we nearly fell in,” Antonia says quickly.
Nate starts toward it, and I push myself to standing. Fighting against the nausea, I move to block him. “Wait. There’re objects in there. They…reacted to our touch. I think they’re magic.”
He nods, and I move aside so he can investigate. He returns his sword to its sheath, then gets on one knee in front of the hole. Brow furrowed, he studies the items without touching any of them.
Two other guards inch toward the hole but don’t get as close as him.
Charlotte is sitting up now, but she’s pale and trembling. There’s red marks around her wrists where it looks like she was bound too tightly. My insides feel heavy with guilt. That was my fault. I did that to her.
“I think I should take her to a healer,” Antonia says.
I nod, unable to say what I want to out of both shame and the concern that the guards will hear.
“We’ll escort you,” Alan offers. He and his companion follow Antonia and Charlotte from the temple, leaving me with Nate and two more guards who wait in the hall.
Nate looks over at me, his expression determined. He knows something.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Did you notice the markings on the items?” he asks quietly.
“No,” I admit.
“Come look,” he says.
I hesitate, but realize that he’s fine where he is. As long as I don’t touch it, I should be alright. Careful to keep some distance, I look at the objects in the hole. Symbols and letters I don’t recognize are etched into several of them.
I look up at Nate. “What does it mean?”
“That’s Safiran.”
My brow furrows. “As in the language of Ashendune? Of the Shatterlands?”
“Yes.”
As far as I know, our two continents have never gotten along. Trade between us and them is extremely limited, and I’ve never seen their language before, let alone items that came from there. “How did they get here?”
“I don’t know. But it’s clear whoever hid them didn’t want anyone else to know.”
“Based on the dust covering everything, it’s been here a while,” I point out. My thoughts swirl as I recall the strange reaction I had. What would happen if I touched it again? Or if someone else did? Would it always react that way? Was it the objects themselves or was it Mara sending me a message?
“What is it?” Nate asks gently.
I hesitate, knowing it’s best not to tell him. Every person who knows something is more chance of it getting out. And I’m not ready for my magic to be known.
