Page 83 of The Edge of Darkness

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t blame you.” I half laughed. “I’m a descendant of both him and Karios. To defeat a god and expel them from the hierarchy, the one to do it must be descended from them in either blood or power—even if it’s a sliver of it. Then, the victor will ascend and take that god’s place.” Just saying the process out loud again reminded me of the reality I’d soon be facing. The thought was enough to douse my light like water tossed onto embers.

I looked away, training my focus on the landscape beyond.

Nivelle pieced the puzzle together, her mouth tightening as she arrived at a conclusion. “You do not agree with this ritual?”

Ritual. No one had ever referred to it as that. It was always just explained as the natural order of things. Divine law. “Sometimes it’s a hard concept to come to terms with,” I answered, swallowing against the tightness in my throat. “What about you? Any special gift beyond the ability to cast spells?”

I knew the answer already, having seen her perform some sort of magic in her garden—when she wilted the flowers with nothing more than a touch. But I wanted to hear her explanation.

Surprisingly, she answered. “Every witch has an ability of their own, ranging from simple musings to overbearing burdens.” Distaste flickered in her expression. “The nature of our abilities has become more unpredictable ever since we fled our homeworld. Power is always its strongest where it hails from, and it will always seek to find a way back to wherever that is.” She said the last part with a pointed look in my direction, as if to remind me not to forget yesterday’s conversation about Niall’s power.

I nodded, even though her words were unsettling.

“As for me,” she continued, “I’m an emulator.”

“A what?”

She closed her eyes as she raised her palm and willed a blue-white orb of light into existence. The power appeared identical to mine, and when it seeped into her skin—as mine had—and illuminated her from within, I stumbled back. When she opened her eyes again, she couldn’t suppress the grin that spread across her face.

“How did you . . .” I checked my own power reserves, making sure she hadn’t somehow dipped into them and robbed me.

She let out a quick laugh, and I bristled, not expecting to ever hear that sound from her.

“Relax,” she said. “I didn’t steal your power. I can emulate another’s power if I’m close enough to them.” She looked down at herself, admiring the glow. It didn’t radiate nearly as bright as mine, but it was similar. “It’s never at the same capacity as the natural wielder’s—it’s my own version of it. Just a fraction, but still useful.” The light fizzled out, flickering like she had burned through the little amount that she’d conjured.

Emulation . . . That’s what she had done to Roirdan in her cottage, and again in her garden. The rope of lightning.

Roirdan’s lightning.

And that meant . . .

“You can emulate anyone’s power?”

“If I want to,” she answered. Then, as if sensing the unspoken question lingering on the tip of my tongue, she said, “Even your mate’s.”

My heart stuttered at the thought of Nivelle latching onto Niall’s ability and wielding it. The act alone seemed oddly personal, and judging by how precious the fae regarded their individual abilities to be, emulating them might be offensive.

“I know what you are thinking,” she said quietly. “And yes, I already tried it.”

The look of shock on my face elicited another grin from her, this one more playful than I had seen, but in no way apologetic.

Then, as if recalling the memory of his power at her fingertips, her grin faltered, and her expression sobered. “It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I know I do not have much to go by, given that I’ve only ever emulated the gifts of other witches—never that of the fae. But, I could feel the darkness within it.” She grabbed at her wrist, rubbing it slowly. “That is partly how I knew where it came from—something inside me confirmed it.”

But if she had used it . . . I hadn’t seen her⁠—

My eyes widened as I suddenly recalled what I had seen her do in her garden. How everything had wilted and died with a simple touch. “But, what I saw was . . . was like . . .”

When I couldn’t finish the sentence, Nivelle did. “Death.” The word was barely more than a whisper. She glanced down to her hand, as if it bore a permanent stain from Niall’s power that she couldn’t remove.

“But his power is shadowfire—it manifests in shadows. What you did . . .”

“I think I tapped into the baser side of his ability. The shadows are just how it manifests. The fire within them is their vengeance. The power itself, in its raw form, is darkness. A darkness that brings death.”

I shook my head as I let her words sink in. “What about his other abilities? What about mine?” Each of us were capable of more than what the witch had tapped into, yet she hadn’t seemed to glean those abilities.

“I only accessed what was most prominent from the both of you. I would need to dig deeper to emulate anything else you might harbor.”