Page 66 of Wicked Prince of Mirrors
The darkness grew, morphing into a visible shape, red eyes glaring at me as it spun into a cloud. I knew the worshipers saw it when the screaming started. Magic rolled with me and I strained against my bonds once more.
“Esmira,” came a firm voice.
Methrin. My heart leaped. He was here after all.
The cries drowned out the rest of his words, but I didn’t need to hear them to understand what he’d tell me, what he meant. I was strong, I could defeat the shadow, he had done it too. The voices in my mind werequiet when I spoke out against them. They surrendered to my control when I fought back, all I had to do was keep fighting.
Reaching deep down within me, I envisioned my magic, strong, pure, not tainted or tarnished by shadows, magic to defeat the darkness, magic to reclaim a homeland. I let it bubble up as the Destroyer loomed over me, I let it build and build and then—I let it out.
A shout burst from my throat as I released and a terrible sensation came as though I was being split apart. I screamed and screamed as I shattered against darkness, like a mirror being broken. Shards of glass burst around me, but instead of lessening, the terrible cracking sound continued, building, swelling, increasing in volume.
A roar like a wave overwhelmed the temple, and suddenly my hands were free from the bonds, but it hurt too much to even move. Pain rippled from my head across my core, and my heart thrashed. It felt like dying, an overwhelm of magic, and I couldn’t stop it. It leaked out of me then took form. Golden light surged like a blade, driving into the Destroyer. The shadow,myshadow, fled yet I felt the threads of it, ripping and spinning, tearing itself free from me.
The altar shook violently, then came a crack and the roar increased. The entire temple shuddered. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the worshipers flee and those in attendance stepped away. The Destroyer lunged for me, but a silver light hurled it backward, and then Methrin leaped in front of me, wielding magic like I’d never seen before.
I thought I’d seen his fury, his violence, but the way he moved wasn’t the skilled dance of a warrior. It was unhinged madness and fury, as though the anger from his years of exile had suddenly been unleashed. He poured all of his fury, his anger, into that one action, slaying the Destroyer.
A sea of pain overwhelmed me and I let myself go to sink into a blissful unawareness.
24
ESMIRA
Milk-white moonlight shone around me, and a garden of white lilies surrounded the bed I lay on. Their blossoms opened under the moonlight, odd, because flowers were supposed to bloom in daylight under the shining beauty of the sun. The sun was what gave life, gave grace, drew everything toward it. But not so here. Here it was the moon.
And I was dying.
Each breath pained me, and my chest rattled as I struggled for air. A wheezing sound came from my nose, and when I closed my eyes, time spun away from me. But when I opened them, letting the tears fall, all around me was beauty.
My memory was fragmented. I’d fought the shadows, the beast had been slain, and the temple had crumbled. Yet I didn’t know what happened to the worshipers, nor Methrin, or Lyra for that matter. Whathad happened to our guards, the ship, Lord Pelgrin and Lady Velune?
Each time I grasped a thought, it slipped away like water, leaving me with the reality of pain. No chains circled my arms or wrists, and I lay in a garden of lilies under the cool beams of moonlight. There was light and no shadows. Not tonight. Not anymore.
A figure dressed in white walked toward me. One arm was in a sling, both wrists bound with bandages, a limp making his gait unsteady. I watched as he neared, unsure whether what I was seeing was real or my own hallucinations. But no inky black ribbons tried to choke me, and no voices spoke.
My mind was my own. Quiet.
It would have been a pleasure, aside from the pain that radiated up my chest, squeezed my heart and sent waves of agony rippling through my entire body. My skin burned hot and even the cool breeze offered no relief.
As the figure neared, I realized it was Methrin. His jaw was set and his violet eyes—so beautiful—swam in depths of emotion. My breath rattled in my chest.
“You. Look. As. Bad. As. I. Feel.” I gasped.
The intensity of his gaze increased as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his weight making it dip ever so slightly. A moan left my lips.
“Don’t try to speak, I know you’re in excruciating pain. I went through this too after I split from my shadow.”
“We. Won?” I asked, trying to smile at him but my lips wobbled.
His fingers found mine and held me gently. “You were brilliant back there. It was just enough to allow me to defeat the Destroyer, and Lyra helped too. She’s at the library, researching. She found Rydlin’s study, and I assume she’ll be there for a while. We are waiting, the moon has returned, the rituals are being completed. I was too wounded to do them myself, but some of the priestesses survived. Once magic returns the light of the moon will heal you. I know you are in pain, I hope relief will come soon.”
I blinked at the pure light and another wave of heat passed over me. All the words I hadn’t said, all the truths I hadn’t told him burned in the back of my throat. What if I died before the magic came, before the light healed me? Methrin had somehow survived the splitting. The pain hadn’t killed him. But it felt impossible to live through this pain, and as another white-hot wave of agony came over me, I lost track of time.
Methrin’s thumb rubbed against my wrist, and a low hum came from his throat. A melody. I drifted as I listened to it, lost in a sea of regret and things I should have said.
“The sword?” I croaked out when I had a moment of lucidity.
“It’s here,” Methrin confirmed.
