Page 301 of The Edge of Darkness

“For all we know, they are,” I said, grimly. “But if he and Skadi think I’m weakened, maybe they will think you are too, and they will be more likely to show themselves so we can end this.”

She didn’t argue further. She only lifted her hands to my cheeks, cupping them and bringing my face to hers. “Do not burn out. Do not lose control. Remember who you are.” Her brown eyes held mine, begging me to promise her that I would be all right.

“All I need to do is think of you, and I remember everything.”

She nodded and pressed her lips against mine, hard. I kissed her back, breathing in her scent and letting it settle over me and strengthen my resolve. The shadows watched from inside me, falling still, waiting like a lion at the gate.

“Get everyone you can, and fall back. I’ll aim north, but there’s no guarantee . . .” I didn’t finish the rest. I couldn’t guarantee anyone’s safety aside from Auren’s.

“Focus on the enemy. You command your power, not the other way around. I have faith in you.”

I pressed my forehead against hers, then pushed to my feet, hauling her up with me. “Go. Now.”

She lingered a moment, and I knew she was convincing herself to turn around. As simple as this entire thing sounded, there was so much more at stake, and we were both well aware of that. But her faith in me was as strong as she’d said, because she turned and sprinted off toward Roirdan and Nivelle, leaving me to my task.

It was then that I realized she’d left Death’s Whisper staked in the ground next to Saxon’s blades. Left it for me to use again. I glanced back up, watching her braid whip behind her as she ran.

I collected Saxon’s blades and slid them into a corner of my pocket in space. A place where I could retrieve them later and pay my respects. Then, I stared at my own sword once more, assessing it, feeling the zing of its essence radiating toward me. But I didn’t lift it. I left it where it was. The last thing I needed during this task was death whispering in my ear, even if I couldn’t decipher its language. The way it reacted to death told me enough: it relished the act of taking lives. And what I was about to do . . . the magnitude of death that was about to occur . . . I did not relish that. I loathed it—hated that the urge pulled at me like a craving I could not satisfy.

Skadi’s shadows were so close now, I could feel the weight of their familiar darkness. It repulsed me, and yet it stimulated my senses, calling to me.

Fuck you, I thought, sending the words out into the world, hoping Skadi might hear them.

I straightened and opened my hands in front of me. Shadowfire ignited in them without so much as a thought. My power was eager. Restless. It bled into the air, black flames pulsing in a rhythmic dance as they circled me.

“FALL BACK!” I heard Auren and Roirdan shout simultaneously.

Others echoed the call, further away now.

Good. The further they were, the better.

Only once before had I descended into my well of power like this, and back then I had barely been able to control its path of destruction. My power was significantly stronger now, and the implication was not lost on me. I would attempt to command the shadowfire to seek out only those with evil in their hearts, but I feared that in this great of a capacity, my will might simply not be enough.

The shadowfire continued spilling into the world, wrapping me in a whirlwind of darkness so thick that I could no longer see the shadow beings as they slammed into it. I didn’t even need my shield anymore. My power was a force field of its own, burning through anything that touched it, and the more that spilled out of me, the more my control slipped.

The darkness was so potent, so pronounced, that every shadow being was drawn to it. Though it kept them several feet away from me, they continued to fight to break through. I could feel the mass of them growing, packing in around me, their malevolent essences tainting the air.

My shadowfire whipped with delight, and a sudden pressure began building behind my eyes.

“Son of Shadow,” a gritty voice seemed to say from the darkness. I couldn’t tell if it was coming from my own power, or the shadows around me. Couldn’t tell if it was real, or in my head.

“Flame of Dark,” the chorus hissed.

I let out a staggered breath and shook my head, but the pressure spread, clawing through my mind like a curse. I couldn’t close my fists, couldn’t shut off my power. It flowed freely now—a gate blown wide open.

Panic flooded my veins alongside the raging shadowfire. This hadn’t happened during the last war, when I’d unleashed my power. It had been a quick blast—a terrifying blast—but it was there and then over within an instant.

This? This was building like a tempest.

Perhaps I should have waited, like Auren said.

Too late.

I felt my essence slipping behind a wall, and I scrambled toward it in my mind, if only to get a foot in front of the door that felt like it was closing.

My power was on the brink, about to tip over the edge⁠—

Time suddenly slowed. The shadowfire swelled, then parted in front of me, giving me a brief glimpse at a figure standing still in the midst of the torrent, staring directly at me. He was tall, dressed in Calledanian armor, with dark, wavy hair and a dark beard dusted with gray. Somehow, in the way he stood, in the way he held himself, I saw my likeness in him. And . . . his eyes . . . they were pulsing with a golden glow. Like mine.