Page 157 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

Finn glances between us, then offers Clara a tight smile. “I think we should be done for tonight.”

She whines, asking if they can play again tomorrow, to which he reminds her that he will be with me, training. Ryker sinks into the chair beside Clara, but he doesn't relax. The temperature in the room drops a fraction of a degree.

He stares at the Elven beads in Clara’s hair like they are shackles rather than gifts. To Ryker, Finn has made himself a rival for Clara’s identity. Every time she looks to the Elven Lord for approval, Ryker’s jaw ticks, his hand twitches on the table as if he’s fighting the urge to snatch her up and run.

When she asks Ryker how long until she can be Fae too, he nearly chokes.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Finn says, lifting his hands. “She wanted to ask you. I told her she should wait.”

Clara ignores them both, turning to me instead. “So can I?”

I look to Ryker, who somehow has managed to mask the anger and confusion as he smiles at Clara.

“I told you, little tidefish—soon. But you have to understand what it means.” His voice softens. “And what about Mother? She might be sad.”

I try not to laugh when she crosses her arms and offers him a sassy eyeroll.

“You already said I could. I want magic. Being human sucks!”

This time I do laugh, quickly covering it with a cough before chugging my water.

“Gods, help me.” Ryker sighs. “Okay, we can talk to Carys when we see her again.”

I don’t miss the faint twitch of Finn’s mouth before he takes another bite.

I’m tired when I finally crawl into bed that night, thankful that I’ve been too busy to think of last night and that the chill and shock hasn’t returned. Ryker lets me sleep in his shirt, and when he pulls me to his chest, it only takes moments to fall right into nothingness.

I’m sore from training my magic all day, but with a good meal and some sleep, I’ll be ready for tomorrow. Tomorrow we’re heading to Mori to look for survivors.

The past few months have been hard, clearing colonies and villages still in ruin from the war that raged in our absence. Where once glittering lights and rising towers filled the landscapes, now they’re nothing but broken glass and fields of blood—red and black alike.

The smoke is thick with the cloying scent of rot and decay as I look down upon another Azeban I’ve managed to burn a hole through. For good measure, I swing my blade, removing its disgusting head from its body. It makes a squelching sound before its head rolls to the side, oozing more black blood.

Around me, there are littered bodies of creatures I still don’t have names for. Creatures who are nothing more than darkness incarnate.

I’m ready to head back to Kyrr. The palace has become our home base for the time being. It wasn’t a refuge center with access being so difficult. Instead, the palaces in the other five kingdoms have been overrun by our people. People who need a spot to rest their heads, even if it is on the floor of the hall.

Movement to my right catches my eye, and I hear the near-silent footsteps of a female lying in wait. From her scent alone carried in the wind, I know her. There is only one female who is both Fae and darkness. It clings to her like the scent of her blood.

I really wish she would talk, but no. She’s been evading me, always one step ahead, and right now, she thinks I don’t know she’s here.

I pretend to examine the Azeban closely, taking in its grotesque, serrated teeth perfect for ripping flesh, and its slimy, coated skin. It has been my sole mission to hunt these creatures down. There will be no creature hunting innocents in the night, using their blood to feed their strength.

She moves again, watching me, but I sense the air shift. With a sideways glance, I see the onyx mist streaming from her hands as she whispers silently to them. Her powers are strong and unique.

The onyx mist crawls up my shins, freezing the blood in my veins. I scream, unleashing a torrent of white-hot starfire that tears through the gloom. Across the field of glass, she stands. My mirror. My shadow. She doesn't move, even as my fire breaks against her shield like waves on stone. The voices in my head become a deafening roar—Ryker’s frantic plea, the gods’ warnings, and my own heartbeat—until the world shatters into white light.

I scream when voices penetrate my mind, but I don’t dare let go. If I have to drain myself, I will.

“Stop, Soraea.”

“Wake up!”

“Let go, Light Bringer.”

“You cannot kill the darkness as you cannot kill the light.”

“Wake up, love, please!”