Page 115 of At the Mercy of Midnight
A hand on her wrist, gripping tightly with bony fingers.
She gasped, wrenching away, but the grip tightened. It wasn’t Silas. It wasn’t anyone she knew. It was something else. Somethingwrong.
More hands emerged from the darkness, reaching for her, clawing at her arms, her throat. Panic surged, wild and desperate. She struggled, kicked, but the shadows dragged her slowly down, down, down.
She didn’t want this fate. She didn’t want to become…
A voice spoke. It was deep, ancient, echoing from all around her.
“You belong to us.”
The hands yanked harder, pulling her under, pulling her into the pressing darkness.
She wouldn’t become her. She wouldn’t be like Lyana.
Amelia screamed.
Then there was a light among the darkness.
It started small, a starburst of white brightness, until it grew, and grew.
The light formed the shape of a person, a woman. Her light pushed back the oppressing darkness, the shadows and whispers disappearing with it.
It was like Amelia could breathe again, the bony hands leaving her, the ominous whispers becoming a quiet calm.
She glanced around, the edges of darkness forming tall, barren trees. The foggy ground evening out, shapes forming. Suddenly, there was the glassy surface of a lake before her, beautiful and serene.
Amelia blinked with confusion, looking up at the bright outline of the woman, her hair of light flowing all around her.
“Who are you?” Amelia asked as the woman walked with light, easy steps across the lake, the reflective surface shining from her glow.
She walked closer, and as she did, the light ebbed away slowly, until her hair turned auburn, her clothes took on colours and billowed around her, and her face was suddenly visible, looking at Amelia with curious eyes.
And she recognised her.
“Lyana,” Amelia whispered. “You…you were the last one…”
Lyana smiled sadly, coming to a stop at the edge of the lake, giving a grave nod of her head. “Yes,” she said in a soft, lovely voice that seemed to echo in her ears. “I was you…years ago.”
The red of her hair reflected in the surface of the lake, like blood. Amelia shuddered and met her eyes.
“Are you—I mean, where are you? Are you okay?” she asked tentatively, hyperaware that this could be her fate.
Lyana glanced away. “You don’t want this,” she said softly, the worrying words floating to Amelia. Lyana looked back at her. “I want to help you succeed. When your dreams bring you to the Realm, think of me,” she said.
Amelia tried to take a step, but realised she wasn’t able to move.
“It will allow my memory to strengthen, so I can help you.”
Her heart jumped. “How can you help me?”
“With the ritual, Amelia.”
She pulled in a stuttered breath. “You can tell me about this ritual?”
Lyana smiled, sadly still. “Bane, he was the scientist, not me. He explained everything to me, but I…” She reached up, placing two hands to the side of her head, fingertips resting lightly at her temples. “I am not what I was once, only a shadow of my old self.”
Amelia swallowed her disappointment. “You don’t remember it? What we need to do to survive?”
