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“Thank you.”

His eyes slid to her. This time, his dark shadows wrapped around her wrists and ankles with ease. Rylan’s potion was no longer active. He smiled. “See how much easier that is?” He nodded to one of the guards. “Untie her.”

The guard moved at once, releasing the shackles from her ankles, but the magic suppression device remained on her hand.

Dawson pulled her up, and his bruising grip on her didn’t ease as they marched down the hallway. They were surrounded by soldiers. None of them looked at her. There was a determination in Dawson’s steps, and she was certain, no matter what she might do, he would find a way to deliver her to his master. He pulled her along, his eyes set on his target, not wavering from his mission.

Her head swam. It was difficult to think with the amount of magic suppression on her.

They entered a large room that lay in ruins. Part of the wall had collapsed a long time ago. A pile of bricks on the floor was overgrown with grass and moss. She could see the sky above.

It appeared to be an old castle, and like a king, Rakkley sat on a stone throne, surrounded by four Wielders, waiting for his general to deliver his prize.

Dawson shoved her, and she fell to her knees before Rakkley. One of the guards brought a black onyx bowl. Once he had extracted Synth from her, he would activate it with his own blood.

The sky overhead was gray and the air so thick it felt like it would rain any moment. Mira closed her eyes and tried to remember happier times. With her parents and Ella. Laughing. Dreaming about the future. When Dark Magic hadn’t ruined her world yet.

Dawson bowed his head. “The shield around her is no longer active.”

She waited for the inevitable. Waited for pain to rip through her scar and replace all memories and thoughts.

Rakkley stood and walked closer. The blackened tips of his fingers reached for his weapon. Any moment now she would feel the monster in front of her take back Synth.

There was no way to prepare for this, so she didn’t try. Then she felt it. A cold pain stabbed through her arm. The strands of her Dark and White Magic in her mind bent and swayed. She was scared they were about to break apart and fall into darkness with the rest of her. She felt a pull and instinctively wrapped her hands around the strands of her magic, pulling them back.

A wave of power cracked the stone floor beneath her with ferocity. The pain in her arm stopped. It took a second for her to understand what had happened.

Dawson’s arm was straight, pointing at Rakkley, who stumbled backward, his hands pressed against the gaping wound in his chest. Blood pooled on the floor.

The Wielders around them jumped into action, but Dawson moved his arms wide and a wave of his power pushed them to the ground, strangling them.

She had never seen him use his full powers, and the amount of Dark Magic he now wielded seemed impossible. The air was thick with it. Dark. Violent. Cold. A storm of his own creation.

With nothing but a look from Dawson, Rakkley fell to his knees as pain wracked his body.

Dawson was in complete control, balancing the powers of his signifiers perfectly. She knew from having just three how difficult it was not to let them overpower you. His fingers moved through the air as if he conducted a symphony of death.

But Rakkley didn’t die. Slowly, he stood back up. “You’ve made…” He inhaled with a wheezing breath. “…A grave error. You can’t kill me, boy.”

Where the gaping wound on Rakkley’s chest had been, his skin and flesh moved as it was stitched together by a black fluid. It looked like gum.

Impossible. Only Hellyian demons had self-healing properties and could fuse their own flesh back together. But Rakkley wasn’t a demon. Hellyians were shadow creatures with featherless wings protruding from their backs.

Dawson retreated, shielding her with his body. The volume of Dark Magic he had unleashed…he could not possibly fight much longer.

“Just hand her over, and I won’t kill you for the betrayal,” Rakkley said in a voice that sounded different than it had before. Echoed in ways that weren’t human.

Dawson remained quiet, his left arm firmly around Mira.

Rakkley’s chest had fully healed. Only the ripped fabric of his coat was evidence that Dawson’s spell had almost killed him. His eyes glowed red.

“Did an experiment with a Hellyian demon go wrong?” Dawson finally asked.

“On the contrary. I needed the demon to withstand the use of Synth. Without it, I would be long dead. Now, give her to me.”

Behind Rakkley, a magic gate opened and Feeders emerged. Dark Magic exploded from Dawson’s right hand, killing at least a dozen of them. He grabbed Mira’s hand and pulled her along, running to the exit. The bindings of shadows around her wrists and ankles released, and she tried to keep up with him. She focused forward as snarls kept coming closer. Dawson fired spells in quick succession.

Dark shadows knocked a door off its hinges, and they raced through until they were outside the castle and Dawson pulled her close. His coin shot through the air with lightning speed.