Page 124 of At the Mercy of Midnight
Magic across the land pulsing, angry and unstable, worsened by the implosion, by the failure.
Amelia cried out as pain stabbed into her chest, the echo of the broken bond slamming through her like a fist.
Silas reared back and they were both falling backwards to the earth, breaking the link. They gasped, collapsing onto the ruined ground.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, Silas said breathlessly, “their bond…it broke.”
Amelia stared at the glowing lines of violet magic shimmering above the soil, haunting her with the promise that they were next. “It broke because he wasn’t willing to complete the ritual. I saw it on his face…she was the sacrifice, and he…couldn’t do it.”
“So, if that happens to us,” Silas said quietly, looking morosely at her, “we lose everything, both of us get taken. We fail, and more people suffer.”
She looked at him then, truly looked. Not just the dirt on his cheek or the sweat on his brow, but the way his fear mirrored hers. And how close they stood to the same edge the last pair had fallen from.
Her lip trembled.
“We can’t let that happen,” she whispered.
Silas nodded. “We can’t.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Amelia stood barefoot on the surface of the mirror lake, the shadows of the Midnight Realm clinging to the edges of her vision, pressing in, threatening. The sky above shimmered with stars that moved too quickly, making her dizzy. Fog clung to her legs, and she couldn’t move again. Her heart thundered uncomfortably.
Lyana stood before her.
Wearing the same white dress, her red hair flowing around her.
“You look tired,” Lyana said gently, her voice like chimes.
Amelia didn’t answer at first. Now that she was here, it felt oddly safe. Warmer than the waking world and the cold,fearful presence of the growing Rift and their responsibility to stop it.
“We saw what happened,” Amelia whispered, “to you and Bane in East Town. He…couldn’t go through with it. That’s why it failed.”
Lyana’s face flinched, perhaps reliving the ordeal. She cleared her throat, glancing away. “He loved me so, and I him. Now we both suffer.”
“Then tell me what we do.”
Lyana smiled sadly, voice low and soothing. “Find Bane’s journal. It will show you the ritual, he pieced it together from old Gemino scripts. He kept the journal hidden.”
Amelia leaned in. “Where?”
“In the Lux Spire library, in the North Wing’s restricted archives. Behind the third bookshelf of Mythic Histories, there’s a false panel.”
Amelia blinked. “I’m not a High Scholar, we can’t get into the archives.”
“You just need to find someone who is. Their token will be the key.”
Her breath caught. “How do you know this?”
“Bane was a scholar, too,” Lyana whispered, brushing Amelia’s cheek like a mother or a sister might. “Go, Amelia. The key is in your past.”
And then she was gone, swallowed by a blinding light.
Amelia woke with tears drying on her cheeks, her hand outstretched towards nothing.
Silas sat in an armchair before her, forehead furrowed as he read from a book in his lap. He noticed her stirring and looked up. His small smile faded.
