Page 123 of The Edge of Darkness

Sometimes I hated being the one who always had to plan each scenario in my head, but I couldn’t help it. The planning was what had saved my ass more than once in the past, and I was not about to let this be the one exception.

I could aim to help her the traditional way—my power alongside hers. But in case something went awry . . . I’d heard it was possible for a mated pair to pull from each other’s power through the mating bond. But it was so rarely done, and those who were capable of doing it were few and far between.

Every time I mind-walked with Auren, and our essences embraced, it felt like I could just transfer my power to her on a whim. Technically, power didn’t work that way, but I couldn’t rule the option out just because I hadn’t personally known any others who had done it. Perhaps it was possible in this specific scenario.

Shit. This was getting complicated. I needed to have a conversation with Auren about this.

I closed the Seidr and grabbed Evander’s journal. Auren had been reading it with Aremis, and filling me in on anything she found to be of importance. The last thing she’d read about was Evander and Verdi visiting, what we now knew, to be the wraith. I trailed my fingers over the cover, feeling anxious yet apprehensive about what else I might find inside. Auren had ear-marked a page toward the back, so I fanned the journal open to that spot.

A crudely-inked sketch of a cave glared back at me—the wraith’s cave. I turned the page, and found another entry written in Evander’s script, the ink still as black as the day it had been written.

I am haunted even more by the nature of this unprecedented manifestation within me. Power should wane over time—that is the natural law of things. But this power follows no law. It is unlike anything we have ever known.

Verdi and I call it shadowfire because of what it looks like when it manifests. But it is much more than that. It is rooted far deeper in my soul. And as it grows stronger, so does the sinking feeling that I am only just beginning to see its effects.

I returned from the place Verdi and I went to, changed in every way but one. And though I dare not speak of what I learned there, I know that what I’d long suspected is real, and that I am facing something truly unprecedented.

I am holding court today, so naturally, I will journey to my place of solitude beforehand, expel what power I can, and hope that the rest cooperates.

The next page yielded an even longer entry . . .

Hiding this power is becoming more and more difficult. I cannot always help it when the rage hits. It is as if the power lashes out at me, demanding release. I refuse. But even when I’ve expelled it properly, in quantities that should be more than enough to exhaust any fae, it remains ever-ready to detonate with full force. It is like a well so deep within me, that I fear there is no bottom. I also fear that if I were to ever burn through enough of it, I would lose my soul to it completely. Verdi does not understand how the essence of it truly feels, and I have found that I am not capable of describing it in a way that does it justice.

It feels like a dark thread that is woven between the fibers of my soul, and every time I catch myself giving in to it, the thread pulls taut. Every time I let it overwhelm me, it cinches tighter, and settles a little deeper. I do not trust it, and that is because it feels more like a presence within me. One that battles for my heart. In moments of weakness it rises to the surface, as if it has the answer. But something inside me knows that if I act, if I give in and let it take control, I would become something truly dark, something not meant for this world.

The only thing that brings me relief is knowing that my sons do not show any sign of having been born with this power. I cannot explain how comforting it is to know that they will not suffer the same struggles as I have.

Guess fate had other plans when it came to me.

I understood Evander perfectly. The things he felt were the exact things I felt. Only, I seemed to be better equipped to live with the power than he was.

My fingers lifted the corner, and my heart lurched when I found that only one written page followed. One last entry. The pages that came after remained empty.

I took a deep breath, torn between feeling ready to read what I assumed were the last words he’d ever written, and dreading the finality of it.

Then . . .

The sunrise this morning was a sight I will never forget. It reminded me of a time when things were simpler, when the color of the new dawn wasn’t tainted by the anticipation of what came after. It was golden. Pure and bright and alive. I soaked in its warmth from The Lookout, and savored every second of it. It reminded me, as so many things do, of someone I’d seen in my dreams.

I often think of that fae’s eyes. The one from the battlefield I dreamt of. Golden beneath his helm, they were. Stricken with fear . . . and yet, not. I’ve had many years to remember that moment. I recall it again and again in my mind, how those golden eyes flickered at the very end. They raged, much like the shadowfire rages within me now. I know that it was just a dream, but that does not stop me from feeling as if some part of it was real. It weighs on me differently each time I revisit it. Especially now.

I go to the battlefield today, both in body, and in spirit, to face an age-old enemy. His forces have yet to see the type of power that I possess, and that brings me a satisfaction I have not felt in a very long while. For if this power’s only saving grace is that it can give our forces an advantage against the fallen god, then so be it.

I will not ask for songs or ballads in my name. I do not care to be honored with lore and tales of deeds done. Truth be told, I do not think anyone will offer such pleasant things after they witness the hell that runs through my veins. I only wish to do good, regardless of the darkness that lives within me.

If I die in battle, lay me at the roots of an Elderwood tree, and let me be done with this pain. Let it be known that I did what I could, and that I did not let my court suffer the effects of what I have kept pent-up inside me.

And if I live to see the sun rise on a world that is rid of Lyceius, then I will bear this burden and all that comes with it for the rest of my days, knowing that I was able to use it for good. Either way, I think I would finally know peace.

Two tears simultaneously dripped from my eyes onto the page. He hadn’t known what it would cost. That unleashing the shadowfire like he did wouldn’t just take his life, it would obliterate it and those around him, enemies and fae alike.

There had been no physical body left to bury beneath the Elderwood trees. There had only been ash.

An entire battlefield of ash.

Two weeks had passed since we visited the wraith. In that time, each of us had to deal with what the wraith revealed, in our own way.

Niall spent most of his time with Auren. They had a mating ceremony to plan, after all. But when he wasn’t with Auren, or with us, I knew he had been investigating. He was far too scarce, compared to usual.