Page 13 of The Reaping Rose

“Are you okay?”

“I hit my head.” I run my fingers over the blood trickling from the lump that’s already forming. “I’ll be fine.”

“I pushed the creature back, but it won’t be long before it lunges again. Nothing works. It just keeps coming.” She eyes the creature over her shoulder.

It’s curled close to the ground. No longer birdlike, as it was before. Now, the beast coils like a snake. A hiss of warning flutters from somewhere deep while it watches us, soaking in the essence spilling from the Well.

“We can’t let it get to the village.”

She shakes her head. “Without magic we can’t stop it.”

Over Greer’s shoulder, the creature sinks its belly into the Well like it’s drinking something down. The creatures in Solace didn’t do that—they didn’t need the Well to recharge. They fed on our magic, growing stronger the more we used on them. Here, that’s not the case. Alyssium is dry. There is nothing for the creature to feed on except its source.

“We don’t need to stop it.” I realize. “It can’t survive without magic, and there’s none here. It will only be able to reach so far before it retreats.”

“Then why would it be here in the first place?” Greer’s eyebrows pinch. “If it needs magic to survive, nothing should have drawn it to Alyssium.”

“We have magic within us?” I guess, but it doesn’t make sense. Our magic slumbers, and these creatures can’t access what we can’t.

What else could it be reaching for?

I shift against the tree, and my mother’s blade digs into my spine. The heat of it against my back grows warmer the longer I wear it. The metal thrums, and heat radiates from the blade. But it is not hot like flame; it is something else. It’s awake.

Reaching back, I unsheathe the sword. The blue vein down the center swims and glows, sending the creature into a frenzy.

“It’s reacting to my mother’s sword. There must be magic in the blade.”

Greer’s eyebrows pinch, pulling at the scar that cuts through one of them. “How could a blade be strong enough to draw the attention of the Well?”

“I don’t know, but when my magic first woke, it wasn’t in the prison.” I remember clearly now, fighting the Fae in the street, the snow melting. “I was fighting in the street to save my father, and something burst out. I thought it was from within me…”

“Or maybe it was something within the sword.” She finishes my thought.

I nod. “Distract the creature. If the magic in the sword is what the Well is after, I’ll give it what it wants, and maybe it will leave us alone.”

“Go.” Greer spins just as the creature reaches us. Her sword slices through its center, slowing it down.

I don’t wait for the creature to recover. I run, sweat dripping down the back of my neck while Greer continues to battle the beast at my back. Her strikes weaken with each blow, but she holds the line, keeping the creature away from me.

Sliding to my knees in the dirt, I stop at the crack in the island floor. Within it is obsidian darkness.

So deep there is no end.

Flecks shimmer in the endless abyss, but they have no light.

I lift the blade above my head with all my might; I shove the sword down into the split, offering what magic I hold in this blade to the Well. Only, the air shifts. Goose bumps prickle my flesh; heat floods my skin in a rush that feels nothing like when I closed the split in Solace.

Instead of it taking the offering and quieting, something within the vein shudders.

A piercing cry rings out into the night, as if the realm is screaming. I release the blade and cover my ears, but the wailing continues. A shrill, violent bellow rattles my bones. Darkness bursts, and then, like a breath is drawn back in, it’s gone, along with the beast Greer was fighting.

The artificial night vanishes. The Well retreats. The ground closes.

Only, the sword, which I offered the Well in sacrifice, is still half buried in the ground before me. Not dull as I’d expect from the magic being drained. It’s glowing.

Whatever was within it didn’t just call the Well here—it stopped it. It affected it. There is only one magic I’ve seen do as much: gods-touched magic.

How could such magic be within my mother’s blade?