Page 98 of Midnight Reign
I nod, agreeing. It’s a long shot, but it’s better than standing here waiting for Crimson to decide we’re not worth keeping around. “Corvus, Zaiah, you stay with Adelaide. Try to wake her up. Keep her safe. Ig, I need you with me in case that book is still soaked.”
“Go,” Zaiah says, “We’ve got this.”
I grab onto Ignatius and mist out towards the university, heading straight for Adelaide’s tower room.
The fate of MistHallow, and perhaps the supernatural world as we know it, rests on our shoulders. It’s a responsibility I never asked for and definitely never wanted. But as we plunge into the darkness of the tower room, I accept this fate because if I don’t, ifwedon’t. We are fucked.
We materialise in Adelaide’s tower room, the familiar scent of her unique essence, along with sodden ancient tomes, hitting me like a punch to the gut. It feels wrong to be here without her, invading her private space, but we have no choice. The fate of everything we know hangs in the balance.
“Where’s the book?” Ignatius asks, his eyes scanning the cluttered room. His scarlet hair is on fire now, letting off streams of smoke now and again that drift under my nose and make me sneeze.
I move quickly, rifling through piles of papers and books on her desk. “It has to be here somewhere. She wouldn’t have let it out of her sight. I can fucking smell it.”
“Where the fuck is it?” Ig mutters, frantically pulling the sheets off the bed and onto a pile on the floor.
“Looking for this?”
I look up from emptying a drawer to see a pixie, sitting on top of a floating book.
“Give it,” I snap, reaching for it.
He whizzes out of the way like he’s sitting on a magick fucking carpet. Where’s Zaiah when you need him?
“Not so fast, princeling,” the pixie says, wagging a tiny finger at me. “This book isn’t for just anyone to use. It’s dangerous in the wrong hands.”
I grit my teeth, frustration and urgency coursing through me. “Listen, you little glowbug, we don’t have time for games. The fate of MistHallow - hell, maybe the whole supernatural world - is at stake. We need that fucking book.”
The pixie’s expression turns serious, the mischievous glint fading from his eyes. “I know exactly what’s at stake, Zephyr Nethershade. I’ve been watching this unfold since before you were born. But this book isn’t the answer you’re looking for.”
Ignatius steps forward, his hair still smouldering. “Then what is? Because right now, we’re fresh out of options and running out of time.”
The pixie sighs, a sound far too weary for such a tiny creature. “The answer isn’t in any book. It’s in Adelaide herself.”
“What do you mean?” I demand, my patience wearing thin. “Adelaide’s unconscious, possibly dying. How is she supposed to help?”
“She isn’t dying. She is right where she needs to be.”
He blinks out of existence, letting the book drop to the carpet.
Ignatius snatches it up, and I slap my hand onto the back of his neck, misting us right back to Adelaide and the nightmare unfolding outside.
42
ADELAIDE
It’s a world of nightmares.The ground beneath my feet is black, a charred wasteland that stretches as far as the eye can see. The sky above is a roiling mass of black and crimson, like a festering wound torn open across the heavens. Towering spires of obsidian rise from the blighted earth, their jagged surfaces reflecting the hellish light in a thousand fractured images.
The air is thick with the stench of death and decay, and wails and moans fill my ears, a desperate chorus of suffering that makes my skin crawl. I want to cover my ears, to block out the haunting sounds, but I can’t seem to move my hands. They hang limply at my sides as I begin to stumble forward, taking in the destruction around me.
With growing horror, I see that the ground is a field of corpses, countless bodies piled upon one another, stretching in every direction. They all lie twisted and broken, their vacant eyes staring sightlessly at the roiling sky.
My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat. I want to scream, to run, to wake up from this nightmare, but I can’t. My body continues its relentless march forward, and I’m forced to bear witness to the carnage around me.
As I walk, the corpses nearest to me start to twitch and shudder. An unseen force is pulling at them. Then, to my utter revulsion, inky black ghosts rise from the bodies. They’re ripped from the corpses in a macabre sight, leaving the empty husks behind.
These shadows, formless at first, begin to take shape. They twist and writhe in the air, merging into familiar forms - the shadow pets. The realisation hits me like a physical blow. These aren’t just constructs of darkness; they’re the souls of the dead, torn from their remains and enslaved.
The shadow pets glide behind me, all around me, a growing procession of stolen souls. Their presence is unnerving, a constant reminder of the horrific nature of their existence. I want to tell them to leave, to find peace, but the words stick in my throat.
