Page 168 of At the Mercy of Midnight
Not again.
She collapsed to her knees instantly, a choked gasp escaping her lips. Her eyes fluttered, then glazed.
The runes on her back ignited, searing beneath her skin. Magic, old and cruel, surged through her blood like poison.
She stopped breathing for a moment.
Then straightened with perfect posture, expression blank.
A marionette without strings.
Halpert stepped closer, studying her. “You always were brilliant, Amelia. Now, you’ll be exceptional. Now, you’ll save the world.”
She didn’t answer.
She couldn’t.
The Amelia he had known, the one who had fought so hard for her freedom, who had loved and lost and clawed her way back again, was buried beneath the spell. Still there. Still screaming inside.
But for now, her eyes only stared ahead, unblinking.
Awaiting her next command.
Halpert smiled faintly, not a trace of happiness behind it.
“Let’s pack our bags and leave a note for your friend.”
He turned towards the door.
And Amelia followed with perfect, expected obedience.
EPILOGUE
They were north of Ivory City, in her old childhood home.
She moved like clockwork behind Halpert, her steps precise, her face expressionless, body and mind complying with everything asked of her.
Somewhere nearby, her parents lurked, issuing their own orders.
She complied.
Her brain worked overtime, spitting out magical formulae until her nose would bleed, writing on chalkboards until her fingers ached.
Figure it out, they told her.
So, she would.
But buried beneath the spell, beneath the cold runes etched into her soul, a single thought rose like a fragile spark in the darkness.
Silas wouldn’t want me to obey.
It flickered.
Small. Faint.
But still burning.
Midnights, it was stronger, his voice an echo, begging her to return to herself.
