Page 94 of The Serpent Prince

The heat at her back told her just who would be able to—who did—and it scared her. Kiran scared her, although she rarely let herself admit it. Except in these moments when his pure brilliance and insanity showed itself.

Kiran leaned forward, eyes wild, as he rubbed his hands up and down the beast’s neck, whispering something Imani couldn’t understand.

They picked up speed almost instantly, and Kiran chuckled darkly in Imani’s ear when she curled herself into him. Now, barreling toward it, she knew they wouldn’t be walking through this slip like before.

Terrified, she squirmed in her seat, and Kiran tightened his other arm around her. She felt the back end of his wand dig into her side—a warning to get it together—but was shaking too badly to care.

More sharp winds whipped through her like knives, and up this close to the tear, she could feel even more magic. It skimmed across her skin, hot and cold, wild and free.

More darkness surrounded them the closer they got to the slip. It was as if liquid night rippled forward, yet it dissipated the longer it spent on this side of the realm.

When she felt the magic slide around her, she leaned into the darkness. Let it calm her. Let it soothe her. Let it caress her.

Imani itched to control it, to use it to get herself out of this mess, but there wasn’t time. They careened headfirst into the crevice ripped in the sky.

Imani felt a tearing sensation as she entered the slip—her body trying to keep her in the realm, no doubt.

All the air was instantly sucked from her lungs. Her stomach lurched, and her head throbbed.

Inside, the only light came from the lightning strikes that streaked across the edge of the slip. Otherwise, the tunnel was darkness itself, and Imani couldn’t breathe. She remembered Kiran saying to hold her breath, but Imani hadn’t.

Whispers like she’d never heard before screamed all at once in her head.

The stolen deaths of the souls she’d eaten coiled inside Imani like a snake. She’d only had a handful of deaths tucked away, but Imani felt the tiny darkness of each and every soul she’d consumed clambering to get free.

Without warning, shadows began to seep from her skin, like blood and smoke. They pushed to get out of every crevice in her body. She convulsed and fell over as she vomited what appeared to be black, sticky tar over the side of the beast. It fell into the oblivion below, and she almost fell herself. But Kiran shouted and grabbed her before she slipped off.

Imani tried to reach for her wand, to somehow calm the magic she knew was going insane inside her. Instead, Kiran grabbed it before it fell.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she convulsed again. More shadows spilled from her, and she could feel their voices surrounding her, droning and groaning so loudly she thought her head might explode.

Her limbs flung wide as she felt her being spinning off in total darkness, yet she could still feel Kiran’s arm locked around her, holding her tight. Black. It was so black, and barren, and as cold as the grave.

The droning sound continued. It was violent, and Imani wished she would just lose consciousness so she wouldn’t have to hear it.

“Imani!” Kiran shouted, but she barely heard him. Because she was looking down at herself now, an apparition floating above her own body, drifting on her back like a helpless lump of flesh and bone. Indeed, Imani floated onward in an endless void, a forever-night so deep and empty that icy terror filled her.

Every molecule of her body began to shift, and swirl, and dissolve until, finally, she couldn’t see herself or feel herself. She was her shadows—she no longer existed.

This was it, the end—Imani was dying.

Endless worlds and realms rushed past her, a neon whirl of purple and orange lights shot across the edges of her vision as Imani floated through darkness.

As her sense of self was swallowed by a vortex of stars, Kiran’s voice rang through her like a boom of thunder. “IMANI!”

Like a cord snapping, she jerked. It was as if she felt her body in two places—one in Kiran’s arms, the other above.

Down below, a horrible pressure built inside Imani’s skull, undulating through her blood. Her veins felt like dark clouds growing to maximum capacity, the storm inside still building and building. Something was inside her, not herself. It grabbed hold of the fibers of her being and wrenched them forward.

Suddenly, the colors folded in on themselves, dropping her back into the sea of blackness—no stars, no white light, no sound, nothing.

“For Saints’ sake, how many souls has she consumed, Kiran?” Zadie’s voice was a biting hiss.

“How the fuck should I know? I wasn’t aware she was consuming any souls,” Kiran hissed back. “It’s highly taboo for elves, and even so, only a few can manage it. How was I supposed to know?”

A long pause stretched out between them.

“Because she’s an heir, and you should’ve anticipated it. Now she might die before we can take her to him.”