I call upon this power now, allowing the darkness to course through my veins as I search the sky for the shadow creature. What is its name? If I knew its name, I could more easily defeat it. Another reason my parents should have told me everything—just in case the shadow creature one day escaped its icy tomb.
As the creature emerges to my left, I beat my wings faster and turn just in time to send a wave of dark blue death toward it, a stream of glimmering energy that I cannot truly claim to understand. I only know how to summon it when I must. It’s a skill I’ve only used when fighting groups of human or orc soldiers on my own. I’ve never used it during battle, not wanting others to know the true depths of my power.
The dark blue magic strikes the creature head-on.
For one triumphant heartbeat, I think I have won.
Then the shadow explodes apart into a thousand writhing tendrils.
I jerk backward in the sky, narrowly avoiding a black strand that lashes toward my face. It whips through the air beside me with a sickening hiss. The creature laughs again, and the sound comes from everywhere. Above me. Below me. Inside my mind.
Panic claws through me. Not for myself, but for Gwen. Through the bond, I sense her fear, but also her faith. Her faith in me. Even now, she believes I will return to her. She’s sending me warmth and encouragement. Even though she’s terrified, she is thinking more about me than herself.
Gods, I love her. I truly do.
And I will return to her.
I will make sure we both survive this.
But… how?
All the tendrils of black suddenly circle together in the sky, and the shadow creature takes shape again, floating in front of me wearing a sinister smile.
I feel Gwen reaching for me again, not physically, but with her soul.Merak. She says my name over and over, softly but urgently, as though murmuring a prayer. Somehow, I know she is clutching the key on her necklace, and somehow, it causes strength to flood me… power that is stronger, and even darker, than I have ever commanded.
Dark clouds roll across the sky, the wind blows harder, and the snow falls harder. It’s nearly a blizzard. It’s almost as strong as the storms King Theron can summon.
The shadow creature twists and screams as though my magic is harming it. As though the storm is tearing it apart.
I keep going. I keep calling for the dark magic my father taught me, pummeling the creature with the force of it, and beckoning the snowstorm to become a near white-out.
I think of Gwen in the forest below, and I send her a wave of affection.Curl up within your cloak, I tell her through the bond.Keep your hood pulled tight. I will end this as soon as I can.
Yes, my mate. I will, she says into my mind.Though the cold isn’t really bothering me. I can’t explain it… but it’s not even making me shiver.
Realization dawns. The storm is a part of me, and that is why Gwen can tolerate it. Because we are mates. Because we are destined to belong to one another.
The shadow creature tries to send deadly waves of energy into me, but I dodge each lash of darkness. It continues twisting and screeching. Howling, too. The storm is tearing it apart.
And somewhere deep inside me, long-buried power rises.
I stop beating my wings, yet I remain suspended in the sky. I hover in place, watching as the creature comes closer. It opens its terrible mouth, revealing rows of sharp but translucent teeth. It shrieks, lifts a hand, and tries to hurl another wave of deadly energy toward me, the sort of energy it probably commanded with more ease as a dark mage when it was alive.
Still frozen in the sky, hovering in place despite not needing to beat my wings, I hold up both my hands as I stare down the creature.
Gwen’s presence remains strong in my mind, our connection constantly flooded with warmth and encouragement. I almost wonder if she knows what I mean to do before I even reach a decision. Before I even feel the strange newness of the power rising within me. Burning hot yet freezing cold, building and building until…
Dark winter magic explodes from me.
The blizzard intensifies, a complete white-out, and I only know where the shadow creature is because I can sense his depravity. I don’t know how he died before he became a spirit, but I would imagine he had enemies, enemies that eventually conspired to take him out.
As the storm swirls faster, I become more attuned to the shadow creature. I feel its despair, anger, wickedness, and more.
Then I feel it dying.
Fading.
It comes closer as it twists through the air, but I don’t back away or even send another blast of power toward it. It has grown so weak that it’s barely maintaining its form.
