Page 114 of Nightbane
Another orb hit the door. “Was any of it real?” She threw another. She thought of the little Starling girl who was killed by the creatures. All the people who had died in the last five centuries. Her voice shook as she said, “I killed you, and it wasn’t enough. The curses didn’t die with you. They are still felt.” She clenched her hands in fists. “Did you know you were going to kill thousands of people? Did you even care?”
Shadows exploded out of her, tipped in claws. Gashes ran down the walls, cutting through the paint. There was a halo of black around her feet.
Isla panted, the anger and sadness stuck in her chest. She closed her eyes tightly as tears swept down her cheeks. She flung her arm to the side, and shadows destroyed the rest of the orbs.
All were empty, except for one. When it shattered against the wall, something slowly floated down to the floor.
A single silver feather.
Isla stepped forward. She leaned down to take it between her fingers. It had a sharpened tip, almost like a quill for writing.
Why would Aurora put a quill in an orb?
There wasn’t any ink on its bottom, but Isla tried to write on a piece of parchment anyway. Nothing.
The room was in ruins. It looked like a giant beast had broken in and tried to claw its way out. It pleased some part of her to see it destroyed.
“I hate you,” Isla said to what was left of the bedroom.
She took the feather with her.
It was late afternoon, when shadows were the longest. The ones the trees cast were uniform, and pliable under her command. Remlar sat on a high branch as Isla turned in a circle, roping them all together. Once they were tied, she flicked her wrist and snapped them like a whip. Their sharp edge cut a row of trees down.
“Learn that in one of your memories?” Remlar called from above.
Isla ignored him. She replaced the trees that she had destroyed with new ones. That was her rule. Replace everything she ruined.
“Now that war is almost here, I feel the need to remind you that not all life can be restored,” Remlar said. “At least, not on Lightlark.”
Her teeth came together. She was aware of that fact, and it ate at her.
If Oro was right, and Grim really was declaring war over her ... that would mean every death would be on her hands. She couldn’t take it—couldn’t live with it.
She still didn’t understand. In her memories ... they didn’t love each other at all.
Darkness pooled out of her as she flung her hand out. It shot through the forest, destroying everything in its path. Something about using her Nightshade abilities was therapeutic. It was like letting the worst part of herself out.
Remlar floated down from the tree, landing firmly in front of her. He looked pleased. “Your darkness is blooming,” he told her, eyes trailing over the path her shadows had made. She had obliterated part of the forest.
“It is,” Isla agreed. She had felt it, inside. Uncurling. Awakening. She was remembering more and more. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“You shouldn’t be afraid,” Remlar said. “You should use it.”
“Use it how?”
“War is days away. Me and my people”—he nodded at the hive—“plan to fight. There are other creatures on Lightlark touched by night that would join you, if you asked.”
She shook her head. “No, they wouldn’t. Ihaveasked.” She thought of the serpent-woman on Star Isle.
“Have you asked all of them?”
No. She hadn’t.
“How would I convince them?” she asked. “What would I offer them?”
“You,” he said simply. “You would offer you.”
“Me?”
