Page 27 of When Storms Awaken

“You’re not staying…” I started. His eyes roved over me, noting my T-shirt that was just long enough to cover my sleep shorts. It must have looked like I wasn’t wearing pants at all. He raised an eyebrow at me in the dark.

“Just a little while, there are a few things we need to talk about.” He lay back against the bed, propping himself up on his elbows and patting the bed beside him. “Come sit.”

I quietly walked back to the bed and sat on the opposite end, grabbing a pillow to hold over my chest. “What was so important that you needed to crawl through my window in the middle of the night?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes again.

“I thought you wanted some answers, firecracker,” he teased.

“I do. I guess I’ll take what I can get,” I sighed. “So, let’s talk.”

“There’s so much you don’t know. Some things would be easier if I showed you, rather than told you. It will all start to make sense eventually.” He ran a hand through his silky blond hair. “I’ll start at the beginning.” I nodded, and he continued.

“There has always been magic in this world, as long as the histories go back. But witches don’t normally live in this mortal realm.”

“There’s anotherrealm?” I whispered.

“The witch realm, Istmere. There are three cities in Istmere, torn apart by war. Most witches fled to the mortal realm to avoid being caught in the crossfire. It was not too long ago that things in Istmere were incredibly different.”

“Who were the witches fighting? Other witches?” I asked, “How long ago was this?”

“The War at Siraleth was only about fifteen years ago, but this hate, this has been brewing for far longer. The shape shifter witches, the Nightshades, were fighting the witches with storm magic, because they were extremely powerful. More powerful than the shape shifting witches could ever hope to be. And they were abusing that power. The witches without specialties, the shades, were getting caught in the crosshairs and didn’t want to pick sides. Many escaped back to this realm, to avoid fighting.”

“What happened to them?” I asked, “the shape shifting witches and the storm witches?”

“The shape shifting witches still live in the other realm,” he replied. “You can access it from certain points across this realm. The shape shifters eventually won the war against the storm witches, and have taken the throne in Istmere.”

“And the storm witches?” I pushed, already knowing what he would say before he spoke again.

“They are dead. Many fled to this realm, and many stayed to fight. It was an all-out slaughter. Those that fled to this realm were hunted down by the queen.”

“And you are a shape shifting witch,” I confirmed, biting my lip and casting my eyes down to my hands that were clasped tightly around the pillow in my lap, picking away at the fingernail on my thumb.

“Yes,” Nik nodded, “a Nightshade.”

“And you are very powerful?” I asked, bringing my eyes back up to his.

“Yes.” He nodded, a soft smile on his lips. “I can also wield shadows and illusions, not something every Nightshade has the ability to do.”

“What am I?” I asked, my voice small. Nik’s eyes traveled to my hands where I continued to anxiously pick away at my nail, but he said nothing about it.

“Once I realized you could tap into your own magic, I thought you were one of the shades, the unspecialized witches. But now, I’m not so sure.” His eyes held mine in the dark.

“What makes you not sure?” I asked, “I definitely can’t shapeshift if that’s what you mean.”

“No, that’s not what I was thinking. You are most certainly not a Nightshade. I was thinking that maybe…maybe you have…storm magic.” His eyes shone brightly even in the dim lighting, and I found myself leaning towards him across the bed.

“You think that storm the other day…that when my energy kept building and needed to get out, that I…that I… did that?” I asked, confusion threatening to swallow me whole. If I was a storm witch, what did that mean for me?

“I do.” He nodded somberly. “That feeling where you’re about to burst from the magic filling you up…I don’t feel that. I don’t know any other witch who feels that.Wecontrol the magic, the magic doesn’t control us. Stormshades havealwayshad a harder time grappling with that.”

“But you said all the Stormshades fled and were hunted by the queen or killed in the war. How could I be a Stormshade if that’s the case?”

“Some must have slipped through the cracks,” Nik replied, and a cold chill ran over my body, goosebumps breaking out across my skin. I leaned away from him, the realization suddenly weighing down on me.

“So…I’m one of the villains in this story. You aren’t here to kill me, are you?” I could hear the crack in my voice as I held his gaze, unable to read his expression.

“Of course not, firecracker.” He smiled, but it never reached his eyes. Under the weight of this new revelation, I wasn’t sure it was genuine. “And you aren’t one of the bad guys. Being a Stormshade doesn’t make you inherently evil. You just need to learn to control your magic, before it controls you.” He made it sound so simple, when I had only found out I had magic at all a few days ago. I felt a kernel of relief at knowing we weren’t at odds, him being a Nightshade and me possibly being a Stormshade.

“But without another storm witch, how will I be able to learn to use or control this magic?” I asked.

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