Page 50 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
It was too late for Callum. Now, it was too late for Everinne as well. At least this way, she could save the one person she thought still cared about her.
Everinne pulled back, slipped her hand from Zoryana’s grasp.
“I’ll see you around, Zory. Maybe.”
Then she turned around and walked away, leaving her friend behind, uncertain if or when she’d ever see her again.
She walked the rest of the way to her apartment by herself, took her time trudging up the stairs. Zoryana may have beenwrong about her magic, but she was right about so many other things. Everinne was scared. Terrified, even. Of the dark. Of her own magic. Of losing her only friend.
Oh sure, she could appear fearless in front of anyone, not giving a damn what anyone thought about her, whether or not she regretted her actions later. But alone, when it was just her and the murmurings of her mind, that was when the beast of despair seized her. Its mangled claws of misery sank deep into her subconscious, its constant grip of fear strangled her, choked her, subjecting her to the ruthless torment of her power.
Everinne stumbled through her front door as it swung shut behind her, concealing her from the rest of the world as the dark magic simmering beneath her surface awoke.
The power of pain purred its approval as she struggled to maintain control, to force herself to calm down. Volatile magic pulsed to life, preying on the turbulence of her emotions, on the erratic chaos of her mind.
“No.” She pressed her fingers to her temples as she staggered down the hall to her bedroom, desperately trying to fight off the well of violent magic harboring within her. But the beast had already bared its fangs, pouring from her in a vengeful rush of agonizing pain. The tip of her shoe caught on one of the wooden beams and she tumbled forward, her knees cracked against the hard ground as threads of darkness swarmed her.
“No,” she whispered again, panting as she toppled over, curling into herself. A rush of cold swept through her bones. Her body trembled, convulsed against the frigid chill that left her teeth chattering.
She could see him clearly then. Callum. Again, she witnessed the way his brown gaze bulged as her merciless retribution sought justice for the crime committed against her. She invaded him. Owned him. His bones snapped, his harrowing screams echoed as she inflicted the full wrath of her might upon him.Blood seeped from the corners of his eyes while she released her power, watching as he crumpled to the forest floor in a heap of ruination. With a twist of her wrist, she shattered his mind until there was nothing left. He sucked in a final garbled breath, his pulse ceasing to beat. Until he became an empty shell, just like her.
Whimpering softly, Everinne squeezed her eyes shut, and the nightmares descended upon her.
Sixteen
Atlas was lounging on the sofa in his study, his ankles kicked up on the table before him. He swirled the glass of honeyfire in his hand and stared at the cluttered mess of papers, pictures, and swatches of fabric strewn beneath his boots.
He was still stewing over everything that had happened the day before, his mood growing more bitter with each passing hour. In his mind, he continued to replay the way Lord Tovian had kissed the inside of Everinne’s wrist and how she’d nearly melted into a puddle at his feet. But worse was the image of her fighting to hold back her tears after he so callously insulted her. Each time he closed his eyes, every time heblinked, all he saw was her face, and the pain he’d caused her.
Now, he was expected to sift through the preparations of hosting a ball.
He didn’t give a fuck what it looked like. He didn’t care what kind of food was served, or what sort of flowers would be arranged. It made no difference to him the songs that were played or if the theme was to his liking. The entire ordeal felt less like a means of finding a wife and more like a march to his own death.
Without warning, the door of his study burst open, and Caedian darted into the room. His gray eyes were wild with a sheen of panic, but he snapped to attention immediately, tucking both of his hands behind his back.
Something about the look on his face set Atlas on edge, filled him with an unnatural sense of dread. He was on his feet in a second, his glass of honeyfire slipping from his grasp and shattering against the floor.
“What is it?”
“Your Imperial Highness, my soldiers have reported a disturbance at Everinne’s apartment. Her place is crawling with shadows.” Caedian’s throat bobbed and a tiny bead of sweat slid down his temple. “I think she’s in trouble.”
“Fuck.” Atlas swung his head towards the windows. The wind was fierce tonight, rattling the glass panes in their wooden sills. He could fly to her, but he’d be going against the currents. His wings would drag, and it would take longer to reach her apartment. “I’ll take thevolt.”
Less than ten minutes later, the engine of hisarcanic voltwas revving through the streets of Starysa, spitting out flames of bright blue fire as he shifted the gears. He gripped the handlebars, cutting smoothly around the corners while darting in and around other vehicles crowding the uneven road. All the while, his thoughts ran through every possible worst-case scenario.
He never should’ve said such awful things to her.
He should’ve known it would send her into a spiral.
Atlas’svoltskidded to a stop in front of her apartment tower, the wheels shrieking against the rough stone. He quickly shut it off and hopped down, powering up the steps to her apartment two at a time. With every floor, the beating of his heart increased, anxiety rushing through him and flooding his veins with ice.
Fucking skies, it was taking forever to get to her.
He wrenched open her door with so much force, he nearly ripped it clean off the hinges, and drew up to a sudden halt.
Shock held him in place as he stared at the mass of power billowing within the walls of her home. Silky black and shimmering violet shadows crawled over every surface in long, sinewy tendrils. They moved like mist, slow and intentional, twisting and curling, making it nearly impossible to see. The scent of her magic—midnight lilacs—permeated the air. Lovely yet lethal. Wisps of black entwined with violet rose before him like a sheer barricade. Some of the shadowy threads danced along his arm and cheek, as though inspecting him, then they gradually shifted to one side, allowing him to pass through.
Atlas took a cautious step into her kitchen. At least, he assumed it was still her kitchen.
