Scolecite
The forest issilent around me. Echoes of darkness linger in the air, following me deeper into the trees. With every step I take, I feel the warmth of the shard pulse hotter.
I can already feel the wells of my magic slowly rebuilding—my shadows the strongest as they reach for the moonlight and greedily bask in its glow. But the rest of my Essence is quiet.
A hollow crunch snaps my gaze to the right, following the sound. I reach for my shadows, only a small wisp heeding my call. Shaking my head, I unsheathe my dagger instead.
Another crack splinters, from my left this time, and I twist toward it, careful not to turn my back fully to where the other sound came from. Another snap sounds from in front of me, then behind.
My heart begins to race as I realize whatever it is, I’m surrounded.
A searing hot pain hits sharply against my chest, and I hiss,flinching away from it. I slash at the air, coming up empty. The heat still presses against my heart.
The shard.
With my free hand, I scramble to get it, yanking it out of the inside pocket of my vest. It burns against my hand, the scar it left pulsing and itching to touch it.
A deep growl echoes from the tree line, followed by several more. Whatever is out there is closing in, and all I have is a single blade and weak shadows. Bushes in front of me rustle, and a creature unlike anything I’ve seen emerges—a beast half wolf and half nightmare. Its fur is as black as the night, billowing with shadows and showcasing glowing red eyes.
My lungs seize as I realize it’s now or never. With no other choice, I send a quick prayer to Eurydice that I was right about what the shard of Nightfall can do.
With trembling fingers, I snatch open the cloth and press the gleaming white piece into my palm. I close my eyes, imagining Graylen as the shard grows hotter.
Sticks snap as the creature stalks closer.
“Any time now,” I mumble, my hands shaking as sweat begins to pool at my neck.
But nothing happens. No vision—no magic portal that takes me to him. Even the heat begins to dim, cooling to a dull ember.
The moment my muscles begin to relax, the beast makes its move.
It swipes a paw out, catching my forearm with a sharp talon and dragging it down the length of my arm. I hiss, flinching back as I raise my dagger with my unmarred hand. Blood trails down my arm, the shard still clutched in my palm.
Another beast emerges. They circle me; the one in front makes a gurgling noise that sounds like a twisted laugh. The creatures know they have me—know they have their meal for the night.
My dagger shakes in my hand, and I take a deep breath, willing my heart rate to calm. I can feel my arm begin to heal,the flesh knitting itself back together. It itches—burns.It never does that.
Then I realize the burning sensation isn’t coming from the wound healing, but from the shard. It flares to life, and it takes every ounce of strength left in me to hold onto it—even though it burns like I’m trying to hold my hand over a fire.
My blood. It needed my blood for a small part of its power. Now I’m asking something more of it, and I don’t know if blood alone will feed its hunger to consume. I gasp as the heat surges, as if it knows I’m close to giving it what it wants. The creatures close in, leaning back on their hind legs one by one, preparing to lunge.
With one last try, I squeeze my eyes closed and hold my hand out, blood dripping off of my palm. That’s when I feel a pulse of magic from the center of my palm—from the piece of Nightfall.
The strange magic brushes against my soul, as if feeling for a crack to slip in through. On the other side, my Essence builds—begging to be let out. It winds through me, weaving between the spaces that separate each distinct type of magic from the next as if…searching. Waiting.
It doesn’t take; it simply exists right within my Essence.
I hastily cut deeper into my hand and let more blood seep into it, but nothing happens.
A frustrated grunt leaves my throat as I squeeze the shard tighter, waiting for the blood to work. But it doesn’t.
The creatures circle me, closing in. I don’t have long.
Think.
The shard still hums within my grasp, waiting to be used. Buthow? It worked the first time with just my blood.
Magic demands balance. A price. I think it wants something equal to what it’s being asked to give.
