But me…
Last night, when my magic sparked and Wilder’s wove through it, I finally began to understand what I am. While he is the substance of all things, I am the space between them. Resurrecting him was not me manipulating life; it wasn’t even resurrection. It was my fingers toying with something else in the darkness. Shining light on the shadows—on death—and forcing it back.
I don’t know what it means, except that maybe I can do it now. If I burn bright enough, push hard enough, I can starve these beasts. I can push back the Well.
“Greer.” I shake her hand as her eyes start to close again.
“Am I dead?”
“You’re not dying.” I grab her hand, refusing to let her go. “Yousaid you could feel my magic inside me? Even though you don’t know what it is?”
She nods weakly.
“I need you to look at it. Amplify it. That light you became in Ruse Village… I need you to make it brighter.”
“Elorie?”Wilder’s voice is muted in the thread as I clamp it closed.
I block him out as he tries to get to me when the beasts begin to circle. It’s like they sense something brewing. I’m leaking out just enough magic to draw their attention and lure them in. It’s slow at first, but when Greer’s magic caresses mine, the creatures turn wild. They draw in fast and hard.
Greer and I lock stares as I grab her hand, and for a moment, we’re here in the street with vile shadows barreling toward us. Screams pitch. Beasts flail. One moment, we’re here, and then, it’s like the rip in Solace opens its mouth and swallows us in darkness.
“What is this?” Greer looks around at the nothingness.
It reminds me of the empty chasm I wandered through the night I found Wilder beyond death. My magic pushes against it, searching just as I did then, trying to find the other side. Except this time, there are small veins of golden light pressing back. Almost like, some other magic is already here.
It throbs, calling to the Well and forcing it to stretch.
Did something else summon the Well to Solace?
“What are those veins?” Greer’s eyes widen as she takes in the gold.
“Light.”
“It looks like?—”
“The king’s magic.” I finish her thought, and we look at each other.
King Malachi’s magic is bound through the kingdom, so thatmight explain why it’s flaring now. But it doesn’t explain why it seems to be calling to the Well instead of pushing against it.
The darkness blinks, and I refocus. Tunneling my vision as I pull those creatures in. Pull them away from the edges of the city and into this darkness where there are no walls and no escape. I become their prison.
I become their cage.
“Keep going,” I say as Greer amplifies what I can barely hold.
The creatures fight against the restraints. Frantic when they find nothing to feed on. No aether here. No life here.
At the edge of my mind, I hear Wilder screaming, scratching, clawing. But I don’t let him in. I can’t risk it. I cling to this bubble of emptiness. Greer’s grip on my hand is all that holds me together. The destruction of our kingdom is on the tip of my tongue. Surrounding us both.
The Well wraps its fingers around my throat and drains light from my bones. Life from my heart.
I drink it down.
Or does it drink me?
Our magics swallow each other whole.
And when the nails of the Well reach the deepest part of my marrow, I hold it in my grasp as if my bones are the bars containing its very essence. I cling to Greer’s magic while she strengthens it inside me. I use her power to reflect this emptiness that stirs in my chest. Where all things connect. Life. Blood. Death.
