Page 55 of Panther in the Shadows
Then light.
Pale and cold. A woman stands in the depths, salt-white hair floating around her. Her skin carries a gray-blue tinge, but she's moving. Alive. Not alive. Something between.
The wrongness radiating from her sends my magic skittering back.
Behind her, several figures hang suspended in chains of dark water. Most glow with binding symbols. One stands slightly apart, her face familiar even through death's changes.
Elspeth.
My sister stares at me with empty eyes. The woman has dressed her in the clothes she died in, styled her hair the way she wore it. Made her beautiful again despite everything. A mockery.
The woman in white turns. Her eyes find mine through the vision, through the layers of magic and water separating us.
She smiles.
"So you finally decided to look deeper." Her voice carries without sound, directly into my mind. "Brave. Or stupid. Rafael always did have a type."
I try to speak. Water fills my mouth.
"Shh. No need for words. You came to see. So see." She gestures to the bound spirits. "Nearly complete. Soon. And then your precious island learns what real power looks like."
The chains pulse with dark energy. Each one connected to the others. Each one feeding power into a central point where she stands.
"The next death will be special." She drifts closer, studying me with dead eyes. "Someone whose death will break you both. Make you understand loss the way I understand it."
Both. She means Rafe and me.
"He thinks he's safe." Her smile widens, showing too many teeth. "Thinks his brotherhood can protect what matters. But I've been patient. I've been careful. And when I complete the ritual, he'll know exactly what he tried to steal from me."
The water pressure increases. My lungs burn. The vision starts to fracture.
"Tell him I remember everything." The woman's voice follows me as the magic pulls me up, away. "Tell him the drowned never forget."
The vision shatters. I'm pulled back through layers of dark magic, through the chains binding the dead, through water that shouldn't exist. The transition tears at my consciousness.
Then I'm drowning in the scrying bowl.
Not metaphorically. Water fills my lungs. Covers my face. The bowl should only hold inches of liquid, but the corrupted magic has expanded it. Made it infinite.
Hands grab my shoulders. Pull me back. Rafe's voice cuts through the roaring in my ears, but the words don't register.
The world tilts. The bowl crashes to the floor, salt water spreading across hardwood. My body follows.
Blood streams from my nose. Copper fills my mouth. The poisoned magic clings to my skin like oil, burning everywhere it touches.
Rafe's face appears above me, mouth moving in words I can't hear. His hands check for injuries. Find too many.
I try to speak. Blood bubbles from my lips instead of words.
Everything goes distant. The protective wards flare in response to my distress, but they're too late.
The last thing I register is Rafe lifting me. Carrying me somewhere. His voice raw with emotion I can't name.
Then nothing.
Awareness returns in pieces.
Soft sheets. Rafe's bed. The room where we made love. Footsteps pace nearby. Restless energy contained in measured movement.
