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“It’s just the aftereffects of the Dark Magic,” he said, as if he could hear her thoughts.
She nodded, wincing at the bitterness of the potion on her tongue. Rakkley had never looked that real to her. Not even in her most vivid nightmares. She had never heard his voice in her mind before.
Mira knew she wasn’t getting better. If anything, all these years later, she was slipping, and she didn’t know what to do to make it stop. Dark Magic was making her worse. It was evident. She should refrain from dark spells entirely.
“I’m just exhausted. That’s all,” she lied. “A hot shower and a good night’s sleep, and I’ll be back to normal.”
He looked like he didn’t believe her.
“How are your wounds?” She tried to switch topics.
“It’s nothing. A few salves and potions, and I’ll be good as new.”
“I can heal them for you.”
“You’ve done enough for one night. Just get some sleep.”
“What are we doing with the relic?”
“I’ll get it to a secure spot tomorrow. Go rest. You’re safe here. I have several shields around this place.”
When she walked to the shower, she still felt the steady drum of Dark Magic within her.
She entered the dark healing clinic in a cold sweat. Dead bodies lined the stairwell. The double doors to the top floor opened. She knew what awaited her on the other side. Every time she tried to escape or wake herself up. But every time it ended with her seeing her parents’ bodies.
Run! But she couldn’t. Her shoes seemed to be stuck. Panic paralyzed her. Her skin flashed hot and cold. She could feel death in the air.
Eyes in the darkness. She knew who they belonged to.
“This is a nightmare.”
The plague mask appeared from the shadows. Red eyes glowed in the dark.
Rakkley cackled. A horrid sound, echoing through the room.
Wake up, she tried. Wake up.
Rakkley moved closer, and his joints snapped and popped with every step. “You finally need to confront the failure you have become. You’re a burden to your friends.”
This is a nightmare, and I need to wake up.
“If this is all a nightmare…then how can I do this?”
A stabbing pain shot through her arm, slicing it open from the inside. Black liquid traveled up her veins, burning through her flesh.
She could feel the tendrils of his Dark Magic stretching through her arm, attaching to her blood vessels. Everything his magic touched was getting corroded by acid.
Mira fell to her knees as the pain tore through her arm. She was burning up and yet shivering uncontrollably, as if her body was fighting an infection, trying to keep the darkness at bay. All of her magic surged to her arm, trying to save the rest of her. Her heart pumped so hard in her chest, it hurt.
Loud screams pierced the silence until she realized they were her own. Her arm pulsed.
But her magic was too weak and the liquid leapt higher and higher up her arm.
“No, no, no.” Mira placed her hand on the veins as if she could stop them from turning black and spilling open. “Make it stop,” she whispered, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Panic swelled in her, slowly building in her sternum and spreading its wings throughout her body. “Make it stop.” She grabbed at her own skin with her nails, hoping she could keep the black liquid from infecting her further. “You have to make it stop.”
“You can’t remove it,” he said. “It’s part of you. You can feel it, can’t you? Nestled in your skin. Melted in your bones. Fused to your blood. It lies in wait until your magic goes to sleep and then it takes over.”
Sharp pain shot through her arm again. Her old wound opened, and black blood seeped out of it. Mira screamed. “Make it stop! I can’t take it anymore.”
