Page 98 of At the Mercy of Midnight
Anticipation of pain made her tense, the breath stalling in her lungs. But it never came.
The feel of her cells lighting on fire, the air being stolen from her lungs never came as it had the last time they hadbeen separated by a great distance. She stared around her, eyes lingering on the spot where he had vanished.
Hand to her chest, she could stillfeelhim, though it was dimmed, subdued. Still there, just simmering under the surface. The tether that joined them irrevocably. She could still sense the erratic swirling of his emotions, aching inside her own body.
Her chin trembled, rubbing at the spot where the dull connection hummed softly.
She held her hand out, fingers grappling at the air as though she could take hold of that unseen thread to pull on it, to bring him back.
She felt nothing in the air, but it was there, Amelia could sense it.
The breath shuddered from her, entire body shivering violently in the cool air.
Her eyes fell shut, arm still outstretched as if sheer will could close the distance. The magic wanted them together, it always had. They had tried to mimic the midnight pull, but it hadn’t worked.
Because of me, she thought,because I wasn’t strong enough.
She felt it in her veins, the magic, but she’d always had such a hard time tapping into it, unlike Silas. She needed it now, more than ever.
The shadows witnessed her struggle as she mentally reached for her magic, and for him. She stood for a long time with her arm outstretched, concentrating, sweat beading on her brow, pleading with herself and her magic not to fail her.
Her fingers twitched, a flicker of something stirring in her chest, like a resistance softening. It sparked faintly before spreading out, sliding down her arm, sizzling along her skin. What had been slippery, elusive, sat in her fingertips.
“Silas,” she whispered.
Something tugged at her body.
She fell and twisted.
Pressure pressed in, squeezing her from all sides.
A crunch beneath her feet.
A roaring of wind in her ears.
Cold.
Amelia’s eyes flew open, a bitterly chill wind whipping at her face, forcing her to squint and hold up a hand. She stood in darkness, ankle deep in snow. A torrent wind, carrying the sting of sleet gusted at her horizontally.
For a terrible moment, she wondered if the magic had failed her, brought her to some random southward spot, barren of life.
Then she spotted it.
Ahead of her was a flicker of movement, before she saw a golden light, swaying in the wind.
She shivered violently, arms coming around herself, the brutal gusting air slicing through the fabric of her clothing. She must be further south than she had ever been before.
Amelia trudged forwards, boots slipping in the icy snow. She kept her gaze on the single swinging lamp ahead of her, hoping it would lead her to Silas. Though, that was where her plan ended. She didn’t know what to do if she found him. The attackers had bested them with ease.
The light grew closer as she moved, and when Amelia realised it wasn’t moving further away, she slowed her steps and crouched.
Squinting through the blizzard, she tried to see if someone held the lamp, but it remained stationary. Amelia got back to her feet, legs near frozen, moving slowly again. The wall emerged from the snowy fog unexpectedly, and she gasped with fright before realising it was a large slab of stone. Not just a wall, but a Waystone, the lamp hanging from the side. Jaw chatteringuncontrollably, Amelia squinted to see the rune etched into the side, hoping it might reveal where she was in Aethrial. The rune was frozen over, the darkness obscuring it entirely.
Amelia turned on the spot, glancing out into the flurries of snow. She could see nothing ahead or behind her.
She moved to the other side of the Waystone, finding what she sought.
Footprints.
