Page 132 of The Edge of Darkness

“Thank you,” I said, “for not giving up on me.”

“I would never give up on you.” She let out a breathy laugh. “And I do hope you know, I’m going to take all of this as your official declaration of your feelings for me.”

“I force you to hold a blade to my neck, and you somehow draw the conclusion that I have feelings for you?”

She tugged her hand from mine and jabbed a playful punch at my stomach. I hopped backward, laughing without reservation and finding much-needed relief in it.

“This must be the epitome of romance,” I said, smiling.

“It will be,” she replied. The way she said it, so sure, and full of hope . . . it made me want to take her into my arms and whisper everything I’ve ever wanted to say. But before I could linger on those risky thoughts, she raised her weapon between us. “Now, teach me how to use these daggers.”

Shadows and ash. That’s what I was capable of. Destruction. Darkness. Death.

Terrible as the darkest storm, the wraith had said.

The information Eathril divulged had been swirling in my head relentlessly. I didn’t want to believe it, even though it made perfect sense. I had mastered the shadowfire, but now, knowing where the power actually came from, and who it came from, I was starting to second guess everything.

Did I truly have control? Were there facets of this power that I had yet to discover? What else was it capable of? I still didn’t know how, exactly, the shadowfire came to be in me, and now I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know.

I stared up at the charred pillars of the temple ruins on the far side of Calledan. The remains rose up from the mountain like towering, gnarled fingers, overlooking the snow-shrouded landscape in the distance where Drastia’s border sat. Somehow, the pillars were still standing after all the years of being torched with my shadowfire.

Verdi used to bring me here to train, or rather, to expel the excess of power that would build up inside me while I was learning to master it. He always said the pillars were enchanted to endure the test of time, so that even if the walls and roof crumbled, the foundation would remain, to be built upon time and time again. I didn’t know what this temple had been used for, or who it was dedicated to before it became damaged. All I knew was that it had been here since the formation of this court, and I’d all but claimed it as my own by adding layer upon layer of soot to its surface.

Perhaps it really was enchanted. My power could turn anything to ash with a simple touch. Yet, for centuries, I’d been unleashing my shadows against these stones, and they had not faltered.

Another enigma, I assumed.

Or it was Verdi. The male did anything he could to help me master my power. If he had set the enchantment on this place, I was forever grateful for it. Especially today.

The stones were mined from the coasts of Vahrenhall, where the rocky, basalt columns jutted out of the sea. They blended into Calledan’s dark mountains—a near perfect match in color.

I placed a hand against a pillar, rubbing the pad of my thumb against its rough surface, caked in hardened soot like it had been dipped in the depths of the darkness that flowed through my veins.

The Asher, they called me, though no one knew it was truly me who had laid waste to those legions at the Battle of Gabbath.

I sighed, pressing my weight into the stone. It was only a matter of time before the truth came to light. There would be no hiding my shadowfire this time. No glamouring myself to keep all its crudeness hidden away. Once I unleashed it in the coming war, there would be no turning back. But it had to be done.

That was exactly what I’d told Amarna earlier when I summoned her again to get some clarification on what I had discovered in the Seidr and Evander’s journal. I’d expected her to gloat about having figured it out before anyone else, and then go into an entire saga of how she thought everything would unfold, but she didn’t. She simply took my hands in hers, told me that she knew my power had a purpose, and that if the prophecy spoke of both mine and Auren’s powers together, it was probably for a reason.

When I mentioned the possibility of using my power on the battlefield again, she hesitated, but agreed that the risk would have to be considered—with great caution, of course. And as far as Auren being able to harness my power, the Elder confirmed it was possible. She had heard of it being successfully done once before with a mated pair from another court, in an attempt to heal their young daughter. The mother had used her healing ability, alongside her mate’s power of fire, which he gifted to her through mind-walking, and they were able to burn out a sickness that had settled into their newborn youngling before it killed her.

Knowing that it was possible for mates to achieve something like that gave me some reassurance, but there were still so many unknowns, and I would need to bring this up with Auren sooner or later.

I closed my eyes for only a moment before someone gently cleared their throat behind me.

“It’s been a while since you’ve needed to come here,” the voice said.

“I thought I’d finally outgrown this place.” I let my hand fall away and turned around to face Aremis. “Thank you for coming.”

“Everything all right?”

I paused, sorting through all the emotions that were pulsing through me. “No.”

He folded his hands behind his back like he always did when he was about to slip into dissection mode. “Tell me.”

Gods, where to start? “I have confirmation that my power comes from Skotos. It belonged to Erebus, just as the wraith said.”

“Who confirmed this?”