Page 122 of Wings of Shadow
A strangled cry escapes me.
“Clarissa—sit,” Kaisner commands, already guiding me to the velvet couch near the window. I collapse into it, my body trembling, eyes wide but unfocused.
He kneels in front of me, both hands cupping my face now. Through our bond, I feel it—his terror, his rage at whatever is hurting me, his need to fix it.
“Tell me what you see,” he pleads.
I struggle to speak through the shuddering breath caught in my throat. “I... I see it all. The darkness. The flames. Us. Kaisner, we’re—” My voice breaks. “We’re at the heart of it.”
His eyes flash, but he says nothing. Only draws me closer, wrapping himself around me like a living shield.
“I don’t know how I’m seeing this,” I whisper, gripping the lapel of his coat. “But it’s real. It’s not a dream or a warning—it’s a truth waiting to happen.”
And in the deep well of his dark stare, I see it mirrored back.
He believes me
Juliette moves toward me, her eyes wide, concern etched in her brow even as excitement brightens her gaze. “Clarissa, breathe,” she says gently, kneeling beside my chair. “Let the visions pass through you. Do not fight them.”
“Juliette, what does this mean?” he demands, his voice tight with barely contained apprehension. “Is she in danger?”
She shakes her head, her expression thoughtful. “No. At least, not immediate danger. The prophecy is resonating with her gift, showing her glimpses of what’s to come.”
Her words send a ripple of murmurs through the room. I feel everyone’s gaze on me, their expressions oscillating between awe and wariness.
Nikolaas rushes to my side and leans closer, his brow furrowed with concern. “Rissy?” he speaks softly, as if otherwise I might break. “Rissy, are you all right? Do you need anything?”
His tenderness, so at odds with the tension that exists between us, brings a sudden sting to my eyes. I manage a small smile, shaking my head. “I’m okay,” I assure him, holding his hand. “I’m just... overwhelmed.”
As the visions begin to fade, leaving behind a dull ache in my temples, I become aware of a change in the room’s atmosphere. The initial shock and skepticism that greeted Cassandra’s warnings have given way to a grim sort of acceptance. The reality of the threat we face is sinking in, made all the more real by my unexpected vision.
Gavriil now stands by the room’s entrance, an arm wrapped around Luciana’s narrow frame. When he speaks, his voice is rough with emotion, but there’s a steel in it that wasn’t there before. “So what do we do?” he asks, his massive hand gliding down Luciana’s arm until their hands entwine. “How do we fight this darkness?”
Cassandra turns to face him, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “We do what we should have done long ago,” she says. “We put aside our differences, our old grudges and power struggles. We stand united, as one force against the coming storm.”
Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. I look around the parlor, taking in the faces of those gathered here. Nikolaas, torn between worry for me and the burden of his rivalry with Kaisner. Samara, her expression laden with concern and unwavering loyalty. Vladimir and Gavriil, the Ursa brothers, their usual stoicism softened by the miracle of Luciana’s return.
And Kaisner. My mate, my partner, my anchor in the storm. His steady gaze meets mine, and in it, I find a reflection of my own emotions—fear, yes, but also hope. A fierce resolve to face any challenge.
“She’s right,” I say, stronger now as the last echoes of the vision fade away. “We can’t afford to be divided anymore. Not with what’s coming.”
Kaisner nods, his hand squeezing mine gently. “I agree,” he says, his voice carrying easily through the room. “Whatever differences we may have had in the past, they pale in comparison to the threat we now face.”
“Easier said than done.” Nikolaas stiffens at Kaisner’s words, a flicker of the old resentment passing across his face. But then he looks at me, really looks at me, and his expression shifts. He nods, almost imperceptibly, before turning to address the room.
“But… as much as it pains me to admit it,” he begins, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Kaisner is right. We’ve spent too long fighting amongst ourselves, jockeying for power and influence. If we’re going to survive what’s coming, we need to stand united.”
Relief washes over me at my brother’s words. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear him say that, to see him take this first step toward reconciliation.
A quiet resolve roots in my bones. The darkness may be rising, but so are we—and we won’t go quietly into the night, not while there’s light left to defend.
50
CLARISSA
I should have left a while ago with the others, but Juliette wouldn’t hear of it. “Absolutely not,” she’d declared after my visions had left me trembling and hollow-eyed. “You’re staying until you’re properly recovered.” Cassandra had nodded her agreement, that quiet authority of hers brooking no argument.
So here I remain, curled in the velvet armchair while the dying fire paints amber shadows across the walls. Kaisner hovers at my side, one hand resting on the chair’s arm, the other tracking every movement I make with predatory focus.
