Page 47 of Stolen

The demon’s gaze flicked to me.

I left my body, farseeing across the hall. Near the door, my body crashed to the ground, my head bouncing on the stone. Varick stopped fighting and swung toward my body. Then he jerked his gaze to where I stood on the other side of the room.

I braced myself against the base of a pedestal. My fingers closed over cool marble—the familiar fold of a gown. I looked up to find Queen Vara’s statue intact above me, her solemn eyes gazing straight ahead. Her arms were extended, the shimmering sword in her hands.

I leapt into the air and grabbed it. When I landed, the hall was a ruin once more, and Arrol charged toward me. Varick’s mouth opened on a bellow.

Everything slowed.

My body. I willed myself to it, landing inside as easily as stepping from one room to the next. I was on my feet in a flash—the elven sword still clutched in my fist.

Across the room, Arrol stumbled to a stop. He whirled, spotted me near the door, and charged.

The sword was light as air in my hand. Perfectly balanced, it seemed to swing back of its own accord. I flew across the hall, my feet kicking up dust, and decapitated Arrol in a single blow. His head spun through the air, black blood spewing. His body collapsed, and a black shadow burst from the stump of its neck.

It came for me.

I opened my arms.

“NO!” Varick’s anguished cry filled my ears at the same moment the shadow filled my chest.

But I was ready for it.

See the brick wall. I slammed it into place, locking the demon and his power behind it. The dark, oily presence thrashed, but it couldn’t move.

Good. I needed it.

More demons skidded into the hall. I drew on Arrol’s power, weaving illusions with a wave of my hand. What do demons fear?

Nothing. The answer came to me as clear and true as an arrow finding its mark. Demons feared nothing, in the most literal sense of the word. The Shade was an abyss—a void so black and all-consuming, it crushed even the tiniest hint of light or joy. And I knew it because I had Arrol inside me, and Midian had punished him by showing him the Shade after the feast.

I ripped the abyss from Arrol’s head and threw it into the hall. It was a mockery of the making. The antithesis of creation. Arrol fought, his resistance a scream in my brain, but I kept the wall in place as I drove the other demons back.

Varick grabbed my hand. “Now!” he yelled. “Come on!”

We sprinted to the door and entered the tunnel. He released me long enough to put his shoulder to the marble and push it shut behind us. Then he took my hand again and pulled me into a run. The tunnel was pitch black. We ran blindly, gasping and stumbling. My toe struck something hard, and I cried out as I lost my grip on Varick. Stone scraped behind us, and then growls and shouts echoed down the narrow passage.

Fire in your hand.

Igrith’s power. Avenor’s last words to my great-great-grandmother five hundred years before my birth. I clutched the elven-steel sword in one hand. With the other, I reached for Igrith’s light. Instantly, a sphere appeared in my palm, its glow filling the tunnel. I spun and threw it behind me.

Light burst, and a shriek split the air.

I summoned more light.

“Given,” Varick said, a tremor in his voice. “Your eyes…”

Arrol. The demon’s dark, oily presence smashed into the wall in my head. I couldn’t hold him forever. If he broke through my defenses, I wasn’t sure I could force him from my body. But there was no time to shed him right now.

Pounding footsteps.

Varick and I took off again. We sprinted, the tunnel illuminated by the ball of light I held in my palm. I clutched the sword in the other and prayed the tunnel hadn’t collapsed with the passage of time.

But it had been built by the elves at the height of their empire, and its construction was solid. After several long minutes, we reached a set of stone steps bathed in soft blue light.

I let Igrith’s power wink out, and Varick grabbed my hand. Together, we raced upward and reached a stone door carved with the tree and crescent moon. It swung open as smoothly as if it had just been hung, and we burst into a moonlit forest.

We ran. My lungs burned, and my skirts threatened to trip me up. The ground was uneven, which made every footfall jarring. But neither Varick nor I let it slow us. We raced into the night and didn’t look back. Moonlight splashed among the snow-dusted leaves and fallen tree trunks. Varick’s breathing was more even than mine, and I knew he could have run faster. I was slowing him down.

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