Page 59 of In Your Light

Yes.

Name it.

You need to warn Salem.

Hadeom jerked his head around to face the wind. What?

Go now. A man is coming to the cove. Tell Salem and Aurin to come here to the hut, where they will be safe. You’ll know why when you see them.

Hadeom opened his mouth to speak but words failed him. I, uh...

You must.

He won’t want to see me⁠—

Thunder boomed overhead. He will listen to me.

Then you go tell him!

Lightning cracked so close, Hadeom flinched, and he could feel the static charge on his skin.

Okay, I’ll go, Hadeom conceded. Fucking hell.

And speak to Fyn, Cern added, almost as an afterthought, like a parent who was fed up with an insolent child.

Hadeom opened his mouth, ready to tell Cern to mind his own business⁠—

You know what he is to you. Stop fighting it.

Hadeom shook his head. He is...

The thunder rolled, low and menacing, like the sky was growling at him, daring him to finish that thought.

Fine.

Hadeom closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and let out his breath, long and slow. He focused his mind on morphing, and it was so much easier now. Now that he’d done it once, now that his shadows had tasted freedom, it was as easy as thinking.

His body bent and broke at his will, morphing into his true form in a blink. The pain of change was replaced with immediate relief and harmony.

He shot upward, the wind giving him a flick for good measure, and he headed toward Tenebrae.

This was not going to go well.

And maybe he deserved that. Maybe he deserved to have his past laid bare, his identity revealed, and the horrors exposed. Maybe then Fyn would finally see some sense and tell Hadeom to go.

Maybe then Hadeom could tell himself he didn’t want him. Maybe then...

Maybe then Hadeom could make himself leave, knowing hope was a foolish ransom he couldn’t afford to pay.

Maybe he needed to do this to put an end to what his heart wanted.

When Tenebrae came into view, he watched two people walk into the old church, and listening now, Hadeom could hear the hum of voices, laughter.

He let out a shrill cry as he came to land on the grass near the old church. The location was ironic, really. A church....

Then he noticed the coloured paper stuck to the windows. Like a classroom?

He heard shouted whispers before the door was flung open and Sawyer burst out. Of course it was Sawyer. The man had not one inkling of self-preservation. His eyes were wide with shock. Ciaran, one step behind him, looked much the same.