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But if I want to help Rosalie and stop what’s coming, I need to do this.
Perhaps this is my purpose.
I take a slow, shuddering breath and look towards the storm clouds.
An idea forms in my mind, and I fly towards them. They crackle with a dark energy that makes my translucent skin flicker with trepidation.
But his energy is here. I feel it.
Bracing myself, I move into the centre of the storm clouds.
Here, the energy is darker still. Colder. Trying to catch hold of it and tame it feels like I’m trying to grasp smoke with my bare hands.
I breathe it in and try to remember how it feels, then I drift lower, skimming the rooftops of Luminael.
As I near the outskirts of the city, I feel a faint pull. It’s not Finn, not exactly, but something... adjacent. I follow the sensation, letting it guide me towards the shoreline.
The beach stretches out before me, pale sand growing darker as the sun dips below the horizon. I scan the area, looking for any sign of disturbance. That’s when I spot it – a set of footprints leading towards a cluster of cliffs in the distance.
I follow the trail, moving faster now. The footprints lead to the mouth of a cave, barely visible in the shadow of the cliffs. As I approach, I feel a surge of energy – dark, pulsing, alive. This has to be it.
I pass through the cave entrance, the rock offering no resistance to my spectral form. The air inside is thick with moisture and something else... something that makes my non-existent skin shiver.
I drift deeper into the cave, following a winding passageway that seems to descend forever. Finally, I emerge into a vast underground chamber. At its centre lies a pool of water so dark it seems to absorb all light.
I hover at the edge of the pool, peering into its depths. There’s something down there, I can feel it. But unlike with Rosalie’s mansion, I can’t simply will myself to the other side. Whatever magic protects this place, it affects even spirits like me.
But I do not need to go inside.
All I need to know is that this is where Finn has brought the Shadowkind.
And that something very bad is happening here.
FOURTEEN
Garratt
Every elf in the kingdom knows the secret ritual. The one that has been passed down from generation to generation. The things we are supposed to whisper, hunched over a cauldron of magic, like something from a fairy tale, to summon each other – warn each other – if evil approaches.
To my knowledge, it has only been used once: to rally the elves before the first Great War of our kind. When we battled forces that no longer exist, and when we were still considered noble and wise.
It has been so long since anyone saw us that way.
We are not abhorred like the Shadowkind, but we are not respected either. Elves have become something to laugh at. Jokers. Tradespeople. Merchants. We are the ones who swindle and steal in order to get by. Who double-cross, and play cards in taverns, and drown the memories of our greatness in ale.
But it is time, now, for us to remember who we were.
Elodie watches me closely as I pull back the trapdoor that leads to the basement below the inn. Don’t get me wrong; I thought about running.
Every instinct in my cynical body told me to leave Pria, leave Elodie, run. Save myself. Flee the city and never look back because I’d be quicker and safer on my own.
But then I thought of my wife. I saw her as if she was standing right in front of me, and I saw the look of dismay on her face. Disappointment. What have you become, Garratt? She’d have whispered it to me. Not with malice but with sorrow.
And the thought of her voice sounding like that made me pull myself together and, against all my better instincts, take Pria and Elodie to the one place I’ve never shown anyone before.
Down in the basement, I head for the shelves at the back of the room. Pria follows me, and helps me move them aside to reveal a door. She raises an eyebrow at me, but doesn’t speak. Elodie is lingering at the foot of the stairs. She seems petrified of her own shadow, and wants to be close to me and far away from me at the same time because I got her into this mess.
Looking at her now, shaky and clammy, I almost feel guilty for dragging her into my life. She and I were supposed to be nothing more than a bit of fun. I cared for her, and I told myself that made it okay for her to love me. I told myself I was giving her what I could, and that should be enough.
