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“Something’s wrong,” we said in unison.
As if the verbal acknowledgement had allowed the darkness the permission to rule, the magic grew thick in the room. It crackled like static, dancing on my skin. It was in the air, so that I had to breathe carefully, or it would force its way down my throat and try to suffocate me.
“What’s going on?” Mom asked, sitting up.
Zita jumped to her feet. “We’re under attack.”
“How is that possible?” I asked, even though I knew she was right. The darkness in the room was riddled with power that wanted only one thing—triumph.
I sensed Erol, becoming aware of him. I ran to the window and looked out.
He stood in the middle of my garden, the garden he’d ruined, and despite how far away he was, his eyes locked on mine. They were black, and I shivered as they drew me in, threatening to pull me into the darkness. My mind spun, as if he’d tried to roll it, and I squeezed my eyes shut to break the contact.
“He’s here,” I said in a hoarse voice.
“What?” Nylah came to the window.
I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. My emotions threatened to get the better of me. Not only had I lost Erol when he’d run away and thrown up that wall between us, but the man who stood out there was nothing like the man I’d come to know.
He was pure evil, wielding darkness as if it was all there was in his life.
It was. There was nothing of him left.
I clapped my hand to my mouth, and tears welled in my eyes.
Erol sent a blast of magic toward us, and it was so powerful, it smashed the windows. Zita lunged forward and tackled me and Nylah to the ground, protecting us from the glass that flew into the room. It ripped the curtains, peppered the couches, turning them into shivs.
The wind whipped around the room now that there was no glass to keep it out, and the darkness was inside. The roar of the storm made it impossible to hear anything else.
Zita jumped to her feet and leaped through the window, running toward Erol.
“No!” Mom shouted. “What if he kills her?!”
“Not on my watch,” Nylah said and followed Zita.
My mom and I stared through the window as Zita attacked Erol. She threw her magic at him, blasts of light that pulsed through the darkness, strobing and flashing.
It hit Erol in the chest, on the jaw, on the thigh.
He barely stumbled. He offered a malicious grin and threw darkness at Zita.
It slammed into her, and she screamed. The sound of terror could be heard above the rumble in the air that followed.
Mom gasped and threatened to jump through the window, too. I held her back.
“He’s too strong!”
“Not if we’re all in this together!” she said and yanked herself free.
Before she could reach them, Nylah used her own magic to stop what Erol was doing to Zita. She wrapped Zita in a bubble of light, and the darkness bounced off her and dripped to the ground as if it was oil.
My hands trembled, and fear threatened to choke me. I struggled to breathe. I didn’t know if it was from the darkness or my own fear getting the better of me.
I wasn’t a warrior. I knew how to heal, how to create. I knew how to bring light and love. I didn’t know how to fight, to conquer, to destroy.
I couldn’t leave them out there alone. This was partly my fault. I’d gone to Erol and convinced him to turn back to the light. I’d pushed him into this, and it had only ripped him apart and yanked him further away from me. I couldn’t let anything happen to the people I loved because I’d played with fire.
If anyone was going to get burned because of this, it was me.
