Page 311 of The Edge of Darkness

Something inside me balked.

I’d let the hold on myself slip. The dark side of this power was speaking to me now, drawing me toward moral corruption.

No matter how much these bastards suffered, it wouldn’t bring Remic back. Or Liam. And it would do nothing for my sanity if I continued searching for my own peace through retribution.

I blinked through the haze of my rage, finding some sense of myself again. I could feel Roirdan’s eyes on me. He remained steady at my side, sword drawn for a fight as he watched me burn these men-like creatures from the inside out. Watched as my vengeance consumed me. Watched with what looked like . . . unease.

I stilled my power, and slowly turned my head toward him. Our eyes met, and I gave him a gentle nod. Without hesitation, he cleaved his sword in two swift movements, taking the heads off every bastard kneeling before us.

I reeled my power back in, and swayed as I stared down at the heap of scorched corpses and severed heads. The only reason they hadn’t been obliterated into dust was because I’d abstained just enough.

But if I hadn’t . . .

A dose of fear overcame me. My hands resumed their trembling. This power, the extent of it . . . Had I truly known what it was capable of? That it could consume my mind if I let it?

Having this power doesn’t terrify me. I’d said those words to Niall long before I knew what my gift entailed.

It will, had been his response.

Roirdan caught me as I fell forward in a flood of fresh tears. He rocked me slowly, letting me feel every raw emotion, and steadying me with his presence. He was a pillar to my foundation, a boulder I could bash myself against until I got all the hurt out. He would never falter. Never crumble.

So, in the stillness, amid a half-dozen decapitated corpses, I buried my face in the commander’s chest, and screamed.

Roirdan’s blood-soaked leathers bit into my cheek as I gulped down harsh breaths and tried to calm myself.

I’d screamed my throat bloody—or so it felt like. The commander had weathered my screams, even as they became hysterics. He’d taken every pound of my fists against his chest, and remained steadfast through every ragged sob as my anger slipped into sorrow. And then, he held me as I momentarily lost myself to it all.

He gripped my face in his hands and pressed his forehead to mine. “Breathe,” he told me.

I did as he said, savoring each breath and letting it fill the hollow space that was left in my chest. I stayed there for a few minutes until all the pressure had eased from my head, and my heart had calmed. When I leaned back and lifted my eyes to his, I found nothing but understanding and respect staring back at me.

There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t find the words.

His green eyes moved back and forth between mine. “I know,” he said, nodding. He understood.

“Did I scare you?” Because I certainly scared myself.

“You surprised me.”

My brows pinched in question. “How so?”

“You held control over your power. You didn’t let it overcome you.”

I shook my head. “I . . .” The images of those bodies played before me in my mind again, broken and aglow and utterly desecrated. A shudder rocked through me. “I almost lost it.”

“But you didn’t. You held onto yourself, and you pulled back. Not everyone has that type of control. And the fact that you did it with the amount of power you possess says even more.”

I did not disagree with him. But it still did not feel like an accomplishment to be proud of. “I don’t ever want to feel that way again.”

Roirdan nodded and sighed. “Pain often has a way of showing us the darker side of ourselves. But that isn’t who we truly are. It just reminds us that there’s something we care about. Something worth living for.”

Something worth living for. Yes.

I turned and looked back over my shoulder toward the battlefield, which now seemed so far away. There was a ridge between where we stood and the chaos that was no doubt still ensuing beyond. “We need to get back. The others need⁠—”

My words were cut short as pain lacerated across my skull. My knees buckled and gave out beneath me.

Just like the dreams I had been having, the pain sliced through my head with razor sharp precision as Lyceius’s essence slithered along the wall in my mind. Black, clawed fingertips scraped their way down the white stone, and the sound was deafening.