Page 107 of The Edge of Darkness

Aremis, Auren, and I all stiffened at the wraith’s revelation—what it implied.

“There was a war—I forget which one, the years all blur together for me now. But a human man happened upon my cave. He was lost and terribly wounded. He was sitting there when I first saw him.” She inclined her head toward a flat-topped rock at the pool’s edge. Her eyes glittered with the memory. “At first, I was not sure what he was. He had no powers that I could sense, and strangely, I did not mind him being here, in my home. So I watched him from the shadows. He was injured—a stab wound . . . here.” Her hand drifted to the side of her stomach and flattened there. “When I finally decided to reveal myself, he became scared and slipped and fell into the water.” She giggled to herself, then sobered again. “The waters healed his wound, and I . . . I tended to him the only way I knew how.”

“You’re . . . the wraith. From the story,” Auren said.

“I do not know what you speak of,” the wraith replied.

“There is an old story,” Auren began, “in both this realm, and the human one. It’s about a human warrior who loses his way after battle and finds himself in a water wraith’s domain. She’s lonely, and casts a spell upon him to make him fall in love with her. As time passes, and she tends to his wounds and learns more about him, she realizes that she has truly fallen in love with him. Her guilt forces her to lift the spell and reveal what she’s done . . .” Her voice trailed off as she noted the wraith’s expression—the smile that had fallen away from her lips.

“He was angry beyond measure,” the wraith said, her pained expression more than enough to confirm everyone’s suspicions. She kept her eyes on the stone, as if the memory played out before her. “I’d never known fear before that day. After I told him what I’d done, I awoke every morning, terrified, wondering if he’d fled the cave while I slept. But each day, I found that he remained.

“Then, he told me he loved me—of his own accord. I’d never known what it truly was to ‘love’ before. Until him.” She slowly turned back to us, setting her sights on Auren. “He actually loved me, despite my disposition. Despite what I am. Are all humans so willing to love another being that is not of their kind, as he did?”

Auren’s brows pinched at the question, then her expression faltered. “I’m afraid humans are far more weary now than they were then.”

The wraith seemed to read between the lines, nodding her head gently. She took a small step closer to Auren, her eyes darting to me, observing my reaction, clocking the movement of the tendril of shadow that wrapped itself around my mate’s shoulders. “You love him. And he loves you. I can sense the bond you share, but the two of you are not the same. And you are not wholly human. You harbor something inside you . . .” She focused on Auren once more before glancing at each of us. “All of you do. But why come here? I am but a wraith, not a mystic.”

“Because you’re from her world.” Auren nudged her chin at Nivelle.

“A world of shadow and darkness,” the wraith said. “I know the two very well. That is why I am particularly attuned to him.” She flicked her gaze to the shadow that laid upon Auren’s shoulder like a hand.

“What can you tell us of his power?” Auren asked.

The wraith stepped closer to me, extending her delicate hand, palm facing the ceiling. “May I?”

“One wrong move and you lose your head,” I reminded her.

She grinned rather innocently. “I think that, by then, the witch will have already torn my heart out with her bare hands.”

Nivelle met my glance, as if to say, She’s right.

The moment the wraith took my hand in hers, she let out a broken, stilted noise—something between a moan of satisfaction, and a yelp of pain. “Terrible as the darkest storm,” she hissed, letting go and rubbing her fingers against her palm. “It is anxious!”

“What did you just say?” Auren asked, interjecting herself between us.

“His power is like a storm inside him. A dark storm.”

Auren blanched. But before I could reassure her not to worry, the wraith spoke again. “My heart sings in the presence of your darkness, High Lord. And only one power is capable of eliciting that sort of reaction . . .”

Nivelle tilted her head, then went eerily still. “You speak of . . . Erebus’s power?”

The wraith nodded.

Something heavy sank to the bottom of my gut. My voice was low as I pushed the words past my lips. “Who is Erebus?”

“The god of darkness himself,” the wraith enthused.

“There is no god of darkness here,” I said.

“Not here. But in my world, there was. Erebus was Torin and Skadi’s father. The god-king of Skotos. The question is, how did his power come to reside in you?” She tilted her head in amusement. “I’ve had many centuries to wonder at your ancestor’s visit that day—at the power I sensed in him. Back then, it did not occur to me whose it was. He had not mastered control over it, so its form was erratic. But I am sure now.”

“I knew it,” Nivelle whispered, turning toward me. “I felt it when I first met you.” She looked back at the wraith. “But how?”

“I have my theories, but I am bound to this place, therefore I do not know the whispers of the outside world, and I have not seen the happenings of its inhabitants. All that I know is from the life I lived before this cave.”

Feeling a sudden pang of unease, I shifted my stance and slid my hands back into my pockets. “Then I assume you are not aware that another one of your goddesses has somehow found her way to this world?”

The wraith let out a sharp hiss. “What is this you speak of?”