You see your power. You know what you are capable of,said the darkness, almost lovingly. Like what she wascapable ofwas in any way a good thing. Something she should be proud of. Something she shouldwant.
Embrace us,it crooned.Let us make you what you were always meant to be. Our dark weapon. Our queen of shadow.
For a moment, Elyria’s resolve wavered. Part of her—some small, terrified part—wanted to believe the darkness. Wanted to stop fighting, stop trying. The darkness would give her strength. It would take away this fear, this guilt. It would be a buoy in the sea of loneliness constantly threatening to drown her.
Only power would remain.
No,she thought. The word was quiet, just a whisper in her mind. She needed to get out, needed to be free of this. The ground trembled beneath her as her wild magic fought to cut through the darkness, roots bursting forth, thrashing wildly. But the shadows only constricted, and she let out a cry of pain as they cut into her skin.
The darkness laughed.You’ve been hiding for so, so long. Cowering in the light. Weak. Afraid of who you really are.
Elyria shuddered. Her hands shook as the shadows slid through her fingers—ice-cold, unyielding. Her limbs went numb, the cold seeping into her bones. Shewasweak. Shewasafraid. And she was so tired of fighting.
Come. Come now and embrace the dark.
The shadows crept up her body, both smothering and sheltering. They offered power. They threatened to consume her.
Her blood pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat—erratic, frenzied. Her breath hitched as she teetered on the edge of surrender.
And then a voice broke through her mind. A voice filled with warmth, conjuring a memory of black hair and golden eyes.
“You’re the strongest person I know, Elle,” Evander said. “You bend, you bleed, but you always rise. Don’t run from yourself. You don’t have to hide.”
The corners of Elyria’s eyes prickled at the memory. Evander had believed her worth saving. How would it honor his memory—his sacrifice—if she gave up now?
It wouldn’t.
She couldn’t.
But Elyria didn’t know if she had it in her to continue the fight. For years, forcenturies, she had struggled to keep the shadow inside her at bay. Rejected it. Denied it. Hid it.
And what had that accomplished? It was still here. She was still drowning in it. Haunted by it.
It would never go away. It was part of her.
Something shifted. Warmth—the smallest spark—ignited in Elyria’s blood, spread through her veins in a slow, deliberate wave. It banished the chill that had taken root in her, replacing it with a new kind of fire.
The constricting bind of the shadows loosened.
Realization bloomed within her—a seedling pushing through cracked stone.
The darkness was not just part of her.
Itwasher.
It washers.
Elyria’s heartbeat steadied. She let out a long breath. The thrashing roots surrounding her calmed. The blackness that held her vision hostage dissipated.
“You’re mine,” she whispered. “You’re me.”
The shadows coiled around her, a thick smoke that settled on her shoulders, wisps trailing down her arms. Watching. Waiting.
A flicker of doubt gnawed at the edges of Elyria’s mind. What if she was wrong? What if this would cement her as the very monster she feared becoming?
She shook her head, Evander’s words ringing in her ears. She’d already spent a lifetime fearing her inner darkness. She feared what it would make her do, what it would force her to become. But that was never her truth. She was the one doing the forcing. She never tried to control it, not really. All she ever did was shove it away, locking her power behind a dam that was always bound to crack.
The shadows didn’t define her.
