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The sun, bright in the sky, the world cast in a golden glow.
Two lovers on a mountainside, professing their love.
Them meeting at midnight. A blade glinting beneath the moon.
Orbs of light dancing into the heavens, followed by a scream of heartbreak.
The otherworldly light rippled around me as I clutched Starlight, its radiance dissipating and allowing me to suck in a shaking inhale. Soon, the shadows of the world crept up and engulfed the remaining rays, and the now-familiar fog rose.
I sat up in the saddle, my pulse racing.
I didn’t know how to describe what had just occurred, but I knew it wasn’t some hallucination. Whatever I’d seen had been a gift given to me by the gods themselves; a warning.
And if what those images had shown me was real—as I knew it was—then I had to warn Kiara. Now.
Chapter Forty-Six
Kiara
I do not fear death. I fear what I leave behind. There is so much Kiara doesn’t yet know. I should tell her, explain what she is, but I want her to live just a little while longer in ignorant bliss. The moment she uncovers the truth, her life will end…and I fear it is all my doing.
Letter from Aurora Adair to unknown recipient,
year 48 of the curse
Another curse fell from my lips. Jude needed to be here, with me, where I could protect him from himself.
“Don’t even think about breaking contact, Ki. Jude will find us soon,” Jake asserted, tugging on my hand. His voice was firm and resolute, his vibrant blue eyes swimming with determination. Nic’s death had been a warning—one he would heed.
The metal in the air clogged my nostrils, the scent sweeping across the campsite. If the boys noticed, they didn’t point it out. It appeared my tainted touch worked.
I steadied my body and shut down my mind, relying on Uncle Micah’s training.
Uncle Micah.
I swayed on my feet, the missing piece of my memory rushing to the surface. The man who’d rescued me. Those safe,familiararms. Micah’s weathered face hovering above my own like a dream. When the scent of copper had woken me, his face had been a blur, a hallucination I refused to accept was real. But now there was no denying the clarity of his features as they played out across my mind.
Maybe the wind affected me after all. It was impossible that Micah was here, in the Mist.
A snarl ripped the air, and thoughts of Micah vanished like dust.
I slowly turned my head. “Shit,” I hissed, following up that swear word with a few more colorful ones. My knees, which were already trembling, almost gave out entirely.
Nic.
Or at least a version of him, hovered before us in the clearing.
His skin, which had been pale before, was now the same color as the masked creatures’. The gaping wound on his neck—where he’d brought his own blade across his throat—had turned black and rotten, and as he stepped closer, I noted that his movements were rigid and ungainly. Nothing like those of the nimble warrior I’d gotten to know.
“N-Nic?” Jake sobbed. His friend’s name was all he could manage. I tightened my grip on his hand in warning. No one knew quite how to react.
The creature wearing Nic’s face snarled again, low and deep in his throat. It was inhuman, wrong. By this time, I was sure my fingers were bruising Jake’s hand as I kept him in place.
“Look at his clothing,” Patrick said sadly. Indeed, pieces of shredded linen clung to his tall frame; the remnants of the cloths Jude and Isiah had buried him in. Further proof that the boy we all knew was gone.
“It’s not him, Jake,” I whispered, even though I suspected he wasn’t listening. He was too focused on Nic, on his oldest and most loyal friend. His brother.
Tears fell from Jake’s eyes, who was no longer able to contain his grief. He started to pull on my hand, desperately trying to break free and run across the small clearing.
