It was forbidden. For good reason.
Kara’s heart thudded against her ribs as she crouched beside him. She placed her fingertips at his temples, trying to ignore the shake in them. He was warm under her hands, his breathing deep and even. His lashes lay dark against his cheek. She hesitated – he looked different like this, without the smirk or the anger.
He really was very handsome.
Focus, Kara.
One spark of Caldris magic, and she might have her answer. She could still pull back. She should pull back. The Council’s laws demanded it: he’d taken the Shards, and destruction had followed. That was enough. But she looked at his sleeping face, the nightshade binding him, the trust already broken... and knew she’d already decided. She had to know. She reached again for her magic, but there was no familiar warmth. It came hesitantly, that same cold, murky green. Still resisting her. Frustrated, she closed her hands into fists.
Come on–
She leaned closer, and tried again.
I need the truth. Why are you here?
Her magic reached forward. She tried to force it to flare white, but the corruption dragged through it, leaving only a pale grey-green shimmer.
What have I done to myself?
It would have to be enough. It held at his temples, waiting for her command.
“I’m sorry, Sebastian,” she whispered. And she crossed the line.
The world around her vanished.
It was like falling into a nightmare.
Sebastian’s mind was a storm of pain, guilt, and fury. His thoughts hit back. The moment she crossed the threshold she felt it – the shove she’d felt on the mountaintop. Not nearly as strong, but enough to make her pause. His presence filled the space, even unconscious, his suspicion and anger pressed in on her. It hurt to be in his mind. Every step forward was heavy and unnatural. It frightened her. Kara stumbled through it, seeing it not as images or words, but raw, visceral emotions. They hit her in waves: aching loneliness, iron-willed purpose, and underneath it – the pain of being misunderstood, being hunted.
“Why are you here?” she called.
Nothing. Just darkness.
Then the world warped, pulsing, humming – and fought back. It recognised her. And it rejected her. An image exploded into being – herself, not as she saw, but through his eyes only hours before: arms wrapped around him, trapping him in green light. She heard her own voice echoing,It’s going to be okay, and his voice, ragged in disbelief:Kara?She felt the snap of betrayal as he had, the pain of trust broken, and the raw hurt that had followed. To see it how he had – to feel it – was unbearable.
She couldn’t watch anymore. She forced her magic past it, deeper into the storm, but something held her back. One more step might hurt him – hurt her – but she shoved forwards, her magic submitting to her will.
“What made you take the Arcanth Shards?”
His mind flashed. A vision surrounded her. Draknor, spreading onto the shores of Vallenna. Immense, terrible and impossibly real. Their magic, new but corrupted, a dark mirror to their own, spreading like a plague – an ebony smoke tearing across their lands, through people, homes, forests. Crimson cloaks of Thorne soldiers collapsed around her, the black magic clawing at their will to fight. Drakens poured onto their lands, scorching everything in their path. She could smell burning.Feel the heat. Hear people screaming as the Drakens ripped their lives from them, the sky blood-red and weeping.
The Council running.
The darkness was winning.
Then – the power of the Arcanth – wielded by a figure, cloaked, weapon drawn, barely visible in the blaze.
The Arcanth whole. Radiant. Powerful beyond compare.
Its golden magic pushing them back.
The vision burned her, but Sebastian’s emotions hurt more. Fear. Resolve. And a conviction so fierce it was as if it were her own. He truly believed taking the Shards was the only way to stop what he’d seen.
She went further, desperate to see more, and felt in her bones – the Arcanth itself calling to Sebastian, but before the words became clear, the vision ripped apart. Sebastian cried out – sharp and agonised. Her eyes flew open. The camp rushed back into focus. His whole body had started shaking beneath her hands, his legs kicking violently against the blanket.
“No!” she cried, snatching her hands away from his temples.
Blood streamed from his nose and ears. His arms jerked in wild, uneven spasms as the fit took hold. It was fast and brutal. The nightshade bindings pulled tighter with each convulsion, digging cruelly into his wrists, until blood dripped from them as well.
