Page 196 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
I’ve pushed myself too far.
As I reach the arch of the portal’s anchor, I pause, leaning against the cold stone wall for balance. My knees threaten to give out beneath me, and I clutch the book tightly to steady myself. Each breath is shallow, the frost spreading with every exhale. I blink hard, my vision blurring again.Get through this,I urge myself.They’re holding the circle on the other side. You just have to go back.
The weight of my exhaustion is almost enough to overwhelm me, but then, a faint ripple of energy crawls up my spine—a presence. My magic reacts instinctively, stirring at my fingertips, and I whirl around, my pulse quickening.
The ghost.
Standing in the shadows, as if she’s always been there, her long dark hair cascades around her shoulders like ink spilling over moonlight. She’s just as I remember her in my bedroom—ethereal, haunting, otherworldly. Her worn gray gown clings to her figure, the fabric flowing like mist, the frayed hem trailing along the stone floor.
I almost forget to breathe. She feels familiar now, not just from the last time I saw her but in a way I can’t explain. As though we share an unspoken bond, formed by what we are. A warmth rises in my chest, chasing away the chill in my lungs. It isn’t fear that I feel—it’s relief. And something more.Hope.
“Are you the witch?” I ask cautiously, my voice steady despite the unease prickling my skin. I take a step toward her. “The one Malachi talks about?”
Her soft smile widens, and she tilts her head slightly, as if acknowledging my words. Her pale face seems to glow faintly in the dim light.
“Mal?” she murmurs, her voice barely audible, almost like a question meant only for herself.
I nod slowly, warmth spreading through my chest as recognition flickers across her face. Relief mingles with an odd sense of joy—I’m happy to see her, to stand before her.
But then her expression hardens, and she looks directly at me.
“He cannot have it,” she says abruptly.
My brows pull together in confusion.
“Who?” I ask, shaking my head. “Who are you talking about?”
She shakes her head, almost insistently, but offers no immediate answer. My mind races as I try to piece together her meaning.
“Clyde?” I ask tentatively.
She nods, this time more firmly.
I exhale softly, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
“He won’t get it,” I say with quiet determination. “Casper and I?—”
She cuts me off, stepping closer. Her brows knit together, and her gaze softens again.
“Cas,” she repeats under her breath, as though the name stirs something deep within her.
Her eyes search mine, and for a second, I see something fragile in her expression. My breath hitches as I watch her glance at the ground, her shoulders sagging. I take another step toward her.
“Are you a ghost?” I ask softly.
She shakes her head. “A vision,” she whispers.
“From the past?”
She inclines her head, her voice steadier, yet laced with something almost reverent.
“Only to see it buried beyond his reach. To ensure the next witch binds it in shadow, that it is never wielded by unclean hands.” A tremor weaves through her words as she steps closer, her gaze burning into mine, brimming with warning. “You cannot let him take it. If he does, all will be undone.”
I nod, my resolve unwavering.
“Casper and I will make sure of it,” I say firmly.
Her brows pull again, but her lips part, and a softer expression overtakes her face.
