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Then she felt a pull, and Aidric’s eyes widened with horror. His fingers brushed hers, just missing her. One moment she looked into Aidric’s terror-struck eyes, and the next she was pulled away and rushed through the air until her head hit a stone floor.

The shadows around her were thick with silence. Something heavy on her chest made it impossible to breathe. Cold pain ran through her arm like an electric current. The only thing she could see were two glowing red eyes drawing closer as claws dug into her flesh and locked around her ribs.

Mira couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. The rotten smell of the Hellyian demon’s breath hit her face. Its mouth opened. Featherless wings stretched above her…and then she opened her eyes. But the demon wasn’t perched on her chest. Red eyes weren’t glowing in the dark.

She sat up, unsure of what was real. Where was she? It was so dark, she couldn’t see anything except for the shimmer of her shield around her.

But there, in the darkness, a sea of dim lights began to flicker. The wind whistled in the distance. She didn’t have her coin. It was on Aidric’s nightstand.

Not even her shield could protect her from the searing pain that shot through her arm. Rakkley must be close. Shakily, she took two steps. The lights moved. But they weren’t lights. They were eyes. And instead of the wind, she realized what she heard was breathing.

Feeders hovered around her and moved in unison on their spindly legs as if they were one body.

Steps rang through the silence, and with each, black candles lit on command, illuminating the lifeless faces of the Feeders. Like water around a rock, the Feeders parted for Rakkley until he stood in full view. The symbol of the spirits was still visible in the broken stained-glass windows behind him.

“This is a temple of the spirits,” Rakkley said as he looked up at the vaulted ceiling. “A temple built in honor of the highest forms of magic and yet, with time, people became complacent and forgot. Their hubris left our society rudderless. We no longer strive for greatness.”

She searched for the nearest exit. In the candlelight, she noticed the sheer number of Feeders. They were everywhere. Scratching their claws on the old pews. Slinking along the stone walls.

Despite the mask, she was certain Rakkley was smiling. “This is all thanks to you. Synth is more incredible than I ever could have imagined.” He was no longer gasping for air between sentences. “It wasn’t just stored in your blood; it kept growing. Evolving.”

Her hand went to her left arm, where her skin hummed. Burned. Stung. The damp air stuck to her skin, and she shivered.

“After the war, I thought all Synth was lost,” he lamented. “I infused a tracking spell with Synth, but I found nothing. It appeared the wretched council was successful in destroying every last drop of Synth. That is…until one day, my tracking spell found something. When you hid all those years in Yharvan, it must have suppressed my spell.”

The moment she returned to the magic sphere, Synth had become alive in her again. Her breath was ragged, and she tried to think through the pain. A wave of Rakkley’s magic crashed against her. White magic flowed out of her, upholding her shield, but the pressure of Rakkley’s powers was too great and it cracked all around her. She could hear each one, could watch the fissures grow larger—like glass breaking. She couldn’t stop it.

Her shield shattered and she stumbled backward, hundreds of eyes following her. Her arms shook violently, and it seemed impossible to concentrate on her magic. Amid the sea of panic, she tried to focus on the strand of her Dark Magic.

Rakkley stepped closer. “Stop fighting the inevitable. This has always been your destiny.”

Her eyes darted to an exit to her right, blocked by a seething wall of Feeders. With her Dark Magic firmly in her grip, she unleashed her power to clear the way. But it came out wrong. Shadows went in all directions, destroying some benches but not touching a single Feeder.

Rakkley laughed. “You were never meant to be a Wielder. Only a conduit for Synth.”

He needed her alive, so the Feeders couldn’t kill her. But they could grab her. With a quick motion of her hand she created a new shield and then she bolted, racing over the broken benches with the sea of Feeders on her tail. Sharp teeth crashed against her shield, but she kept running, out of the room, down a hallway. Like in her dream, she could feel the breath of the Feeders hit her neck. Hear their snarling just behind her.

At the end of the hallway stood more Feeders. She darted into a room to her left and barricaded the door with several white spells. The demons crashed against the door, howling and snapping. Her spells wouldn’t last long.

There were no windows. No way out. She pressed herself against the wall, feeling it shake every time the Feeders slammed against the door.

She cowered on the floor. The walls shook. Feeders howled in frustration, and Mira cast more protective white spells against the door, replacing the ones that had been broken a few seconds ago. She spoke them at an increasing rate, knowing that she couldn’t keep this up much longer.

Perhaps she could break through the wall with a dark spell? But she had no time to do anything but reinforce the door.

A loud rumble in the distance made the ground shake and then everything went quiet. The Feeders outside the door stopped their attacks.

Had Rakkley come for her? Had his patience worn thin?

Mira focused on her Dark Magic, concentrating on the strand of it in her mind. Right when she had it in her hand, the door exploded. She shot a dark spell at a Feeder, killing it, but dozens more stormed into the room, trying to snatch her. The shield around her would only withstand so much.

Feeders swarmed around her, attacking her shield. Cracks formed. She couldn’t do this much longer. All of it was pointless. She was outnumbered. Sharp teeth lodged into her shield. She closed her eyes, preparing herself for the inevitable. But then the snarling stopped.

She blinked her eyes open, and the room was filled with dead Feeders, black fluid dripping from their eyes and noses. And amid the sea of bodies stood Aidric. His face was pure, unadulterated rage. When she dropped her already weakened shield, she could feel the coolness of his Dark Magic in the air.

She fell into his arms, wondering if this was a dream.

“Are you all right?” he asked, and she nodded.