The Shadow Wand

by Laurie Forest

  Vogel pauses as I struggle to breathe, struggle to think.

  “The Demon is the son of Valentin Guryev,” Vogel says, slow and seething. “Not Yvan Guriel at all, but Yvan Guryev. Son of the Demon who killed Carnissa Gardner, our Great Black Witch.”

  My stomach lurches and vertigo rushes over me as vengeful rage breaks out across the room. I can feel Lukas’s flash of fiery surprise from clear across the hall as every beat of my heart sounds out one word.

  Yvan. Yvan. Yvan.

  “By the grace of the Holy Ancient One,” Vogel cries over the restless crowd, “the Icaral Demon has been struck down. Yvan Guryev, cursed son of Valentin Guryev, is dead.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IRONFLOWERS

  ELLOREN GARDNER

  Sixth Month

  Valgard, Gardneria

  A violent roar of triumph breaks through the crowd like a wave, everyone yelling and crying out as fists are thrown into the air in support of Yvan’s death.

  Shock rips through me as my knees go weak and I take a faltering step backward, my legs almost buckling beneath me. I throw my hand back and grab hold of the Ironwood trunk behind me, my wand hand meeting wood.

  The invisible magic in my lines detonates.

  Power rushes through me in a savage inferno, heat flooding my lines as a murderous rage overtakes me that’s fueled by ferocity and grief and my destroyed heart. The urge to draw up my fire power and level the entire city of Valgard takes hold with incredible force, and I know that if I stay a second more, I will burn this city to ash.

  I turn on my heels and flee.

  * * *

  I run and run, bursting through the Council Hall’s entrance, past shocked-looking soldiers and down the sweeping staircase. Clear past the Council Hall and into a grove of Ironwood trees, not caring when rough roots scrape my feet.

  I run until I’m past the back edge of the grove, past all the wood, racing toward the ocean until there’s cold bluff stone beneath my feet, a rocky cliff before me and the ocean below, the ledge lit sapphire by the glow of the grove’s Ironflower blooms.

  I pause, my breath suspended as my eyes latch on to the glowing green line that crosses the bay in the distance.

  Bile rises in my throat.

  My legs buckle and I drop to my knees against the ledge’s raised stone, my whole body racked with ferocious sobs as the stiff ocean breeze strafes over me and black waves crash violently against the rocks below.

  I cry until I can barely breathe. Until my eyes are almost swollen shut. Until pain clenches my chest and throat and eyes.

  Yvan.

  My love. My only love.

  Gone.

  Murdered.

  I’ll never see you again.

  I cry, devastated, wanting to scream at the heavens. Wanting to send my fire over Vogel and every soldier in Gardneria before they can cut me down in turn.

  “Yvan,” I sob aloud, breaking apart. “Yvan.”

  I cry for a long time, crumpled forward, my eyes tightly closed, my forehead pressed to the chill bluff stone.

  Yvan... I agonize, lost and unmoored and suddenly landed in terrain too brutal to navigate on my own.

  What would you want me to do? I finally ask, as if the thought can reach him.

  Yvan’s unwavering answer sounds bright in my mind.

  Fight them.

  I grow still, a sob catching tight in my throat as merciless clarity descends.

  Vogel’s power is horrific, and it’s growing.

  The power of his wand is growing. His wand of shadows...

  The Shadow Wand.

  I can feel residual stinging along the demon-sensing rune on my abdomen.

  Vogel will wield the evil power of that Wand against everyone and everything I love. Against everything good in the world.

  Nothing and no one is safe.

  Yvan’s words from the day I found out I’m the Black Witch light up like a beacon in my mind.

  This is bigger than just us, Elloren. If no one steps forward, they’ll win.

  I remember the exact look on Yvan’s beautiful face when he said this to me. A face I’ll never see again.

  Grief makes another play to tear me apart, a wail threatening to pull loose from my throat as an orb of sapphire light rolls up beside me, a glowing blue line trailing behind it from the grove as a sudden awareness of Lukas’s fire blazes through my lines.

  The Noi tracking rune.

  As I look behind me, Lukas bursts through the grove and onto the rocky bluff.

  Our eyes meet, and fire ignites in my lines, the sight of his Mage uniform triggering a rage in me that’s so raw, I might have stricken him down had I wood in my hand.

  I bolt to my feet, fury thick and potent in my blood as Lukas’s fire intensifies along with mine, both of us abruptly caught up in a violent, chaotic blaze.

  “Elloren,” Lukas says with blistering urgency, accentuating each word, “does anyone other than your aunt and me know that you were with the Icaral of Prophecy?”

  Fire explodes through my lines as I raise the palm of my wand hand. “Stop,” I demand of him in a teeth-clenched snarl, my other hand balling into a fist as my Dryad compulsion to be honest with him grips me fiercely “Tell me,” I command Lukas, my voice breaking around my fury. “Tell me that you’ve broken with Vogel. Tell me that you’re only standing here, in that vile uniform, because you’re planning to use your position to destroy him.”

  Lukas’s gaze is as ferocious as mine as we stare each other down.

  “Yes, Elloren,” he finally says, his voice ironhard.

  A blast of shock hits me, the world altered yet again. Because Lukas Grey cannot lie to me and I can read the truth of his words in the forceful current of his fire.

  I blink at him, rapidly adjusting to his stunning admission. I can sense him holding back a broader explanation—an explanation I need from him.

  Because he is still wearing their uniform. And I need to know that he hasn’t just broken with Vogel, but with Gardneria as a whole.

  Because Vogel’s evil is bigger than Vogel alone.

  Lukas takes a step toward me. “Elloren,” he says, his tone gaining urgency, “who else knows?”

  I don’t care, I want to snarl at him as tears sheen my eyes. I loved him.

  But then another voice sounds in my mind.

  Yvan’s.

  Survive, Elloren.

  Survive and fight them.

  “I...I don’t know,” I force out, misery threatening to break loose from my throat.

  I love you, Yvan. I love you.

  “We need to leave,” Lukas says, still urgent but gentler this time. “Elloren, if they find out about this, they’ll kill you. You shouldn’t even be in Gardneria.”

  My eyes stay locked with his as horror infuses my voice. “I’m not safe anywhere.” Fear rises, and I struggle not to succumb to its clawing grip.

  Lukas, I’m in so much danger I don’t know what to do.

  But if I fight back, I’ll kill everyone. Even you.

  “I need your protection.” I level with him. Or I’m going to be killed.

  “I meant what I said,” he says, his tone blazingly heartfelt. “If you need my protection, you have it.”

  The inescapable urge toward honesty swells, and I’m unable to contain it.

  “I loved him,” I say, my voice breaking. “I loved Yvan.”

  A flash of stark pain passes over Lukas’s expression. “I know,” he finally says, an edge to the words, but then his gaze turns unexpectedly ardent. “I am your friend, Elloren. I always will be. Let me help you.”

  I look away, overcome by Lukas’s show of alliance as I wrestle with overwhelming grief. Tears burn my cheeks as I’m swept up in a yearning for Yvan so powerful that it threatens to undo me.

&
nbsp; Lukas moves closer and gently takes my hands in his, and I let him. I keep hold of him, his own grip firming around mine as I cry and the waves crash onto the rocks below us. Lukas reaches up to caress my cheek, and I tip my head against his palm as I sob, his green eyes fixed on mine and filled with an unexpected compassion that feels like a lifeline. Then he reaches down to take my other hand again in his as he slightly loosens his fire and earthlines, letting his invisible branches twine around me protectively. His fire affinity seeks out mine in small, bolstering flares, then, meeting no resistance from me, courses through my lines in a rippling stream.

  It’s like flame to spirits.

  A reflexive shudder flashes through my body as fire lights in my vision and my magic surges with monstrous force, colliding and meshing with Lukas’s in a sudden wave—fire, earth, air, and water power avalanching into his magery.

  Lukas sucks in a hard breath, his whole body tensing as his grip around my hands tightens and my power overtakes him.

  And I realize in this one brief, staggering moment...

  I’ve become much more powerful than Lukas Grey.

  Alarm gains hold and I jerk my hands away from Lukas’s then stagger backward, balling my stinging wand hand into a fist as power continues to course through my lines, straining toward Lukas, my hand glowing scarlet and burning hot.

  The world around us has grown dim, the grove’s sapphire glow gone.

  I glance wildly around, my breathing erratic.

  The Ironflower blossoms behind us have all darkened, a palpable terror now emanating from the trees.

  Lukas glares at the grove then sets his fervid gaze back on me, his own breath unsteady, his fire a lashing blaze. “Holy gods, Elloren. Your power’s grown.”

  My mind is cast into full-blown war with itself.

  Tell him what you are. You need to tell him. Damion suspects, and he won’t be unconscious forever.

  But I can’t get the words out. Instead, I’m caught up in agonizing indecision as Ni Vin’s warning blares in my mind—

  Don’t let the Gardnerians know what you are.

  “Elloren,” Lukas insists, stepping closer to me, his tone now rough and brooking no argument. “Tell me what’s happened to you. What’s quickened your affinity power to that level? If you could access it, that’s Black Witch–level power.”

  I look to him, violently shaken by the force of my own magic as Lukas’s hand comes tight around my arm, his own gaze catching fire. “I know you’re back here for some reason that you’re hiding from me,” he says in a razor-sharp whisper, dire concern breaking through. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  I doggedly hold back.

  No, Lukas. Not until I know you’ve broken with all of Gardneria, not just Vogel.

  Lukas abruptly releases my arm and steps away from me, visibly upset.

  My head is starting to throb, and Lukas’s obvious frustration sets off a spiraling void deep inside.

  Rafe, Trystan, where are you? Yvan is dead and I need you. I don’t know who to trust.

  “Where are my brothers, Lukas?” I demand, my voice cracking as anguish overtakes me. “Do you know anything about where they are? Are they even alive?”

  Lukas glares as if furious with himself for being drawn in by me. “Yes,” he finally says, and his anger seems to dampen. “To my knowledge, they are.”

  Jagged relief explodes through me as fresh tears sting my eyes.

  Lukas looks up at the darkened trees and studies them for a moment. He looks back to me, one brow raised in strident question.

  “Lukas...” I say, my head a pulsating ache, the thoughts coming in a rush. I’m the Black Witch. And everyone is going to want to kill me or wield me. I want to tell you the truth. I want to trust you. I close my eyes and press my forehead against my palms. I can feel Lukas steadily watching me. “I don’t know what to do,” I relent, knowing I’m in over my head.

  Leagues and leagues over my head.

  Lukas remains quiet.

  “You’re right.” I finally level with him as I open my eyes and glower in the Council Hall’s direction. “I do need to get out of here.” I meet his gaze once more. “With you.”

  Lukas nods as I hold his impassioned gaze, feeling scoured by sorrow and the lingering scald of so much power racing through my lines. “I’ll need shoes,” I admit. Along with the ability to control world-destroying power.

  Lukas cocks a questioning eyebrow then considers the stockinged foot I kick out from under my skirts. He gives me an incredulous look, then nods, lifts his arm, and holds it out for me to take.

  A flare of fire power passes between us as I thread my arm through his, my eyes wandering toward Lukas’s identically fastmarked hands. But then a harder surge of my power drags my gaze to his wand.

  I clench my wand hand tight and fight the urge to reach for his wand as my power continues to ratchet up.

  Inhaling and exhaling breath after breath, I struggle to keep the power at bay as we set off together and I keep pace with Lukas’s long stride.

  We walk away from the ocean, through the eerie, still-darkened grove. As we stride out of the grove and toward a thin line of pine trees stretched out before us, I’m filled with a prickling sense of being watched.

  I glance back over my shoulder and fear trills through me.

  The dense Ironwood grove has regained its glow as if resuscitated, its luminescent sapphire shimmer even stronger than before.

  Black Witch.

  The words scrape through me like dry leaves, and I turn quickly away, my body breaking into gooseflesh. I can feel the trees’ smug defiance, as if the grove is making a show of power.

  A sudden, harsh tug on my lines has my abdomen clenching.

  A tug emanating from the trees.

  “The trees are pulling on my lines,” I tell Lukas.

  “They can’t hurt you,” he reassures me, voice low. He throws a quick glance back at the trees. “I can feel their hostility as well, but it’s just an aura. Push it back with your fire.”

  Outrage sparking, I dredge up affinity fire and blaze it in an invisible wave toward the trees.

  The entire grove recoils. I can feel it, deep inside, as tension releases from my lines.

  As if the trees have lost their grip on me, but I can feel them scrabbling to regain their hold.

  Outrage spikes to fury and I throw out another blast of invisible flame.

  Be my enemy, I seethe at the forest. Go ahead and try. What’s one more? You’re playing with fire if you try to come at me.

  Even as I think this, I can sense my grandmother’s mounting power infusing my affinity lines.

  Settling in.

  Forming dark branches, a heightened fire, a stronger current of wind, and a steadier trickle of water.

  I glance back down at the handle of Lukas’s wand, both caught up in and terrified by my burgeoning desire to take his wand in hand and unleash my power through it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  PORTAL

  ELLOREN GARDNER

  Sixth Month

  Valgard, Gardneria

  During the ride back to the Grey estate, Lukas is quiet, and so am I, both of us seemingly caught up in a silent struggle over how much to divulge to each other as I wrestle with a grief that threatens to tear me apart. Bars of light from a hanging lamp slide back and forth over Lukas’s sculpted face, the two of us sitting opposite each other in his family’s elegant carriage.

  Lukas looks out the window as if lost in storming thoughts of his own, his brow deeply furrowed as the carriage makes its way through the vast farm fields that lie between the main city and his family’s estate.

  There’s a grim weightiness to Lukas’s demeanor that trumps his usual cool arrogance. Every so often he looks over, his jaw set tight, and considers me as if trying to work out a particularly ve
xing puzzle. Then he looks away again as I scrutinize him in the same conflicted manner, gutted by unassuageable sorrow.

  And overwhelmed by the knowledge of Vogel’s demonic power.

  Power that’s growing and rapidly becoming unstoppable. Vogel’s forces are organized and aligned, whereas the forces that could stand against him are being pushed farther and farther east. And the Resistance seems intent on destroying one of its most powerful weapons.

  Me.

  I peer out the window and let my gaze wander across an expansive cornfield, the full moon casting a pallor over the small stalks, the scene as bleak as my emotions.

  When I turn back to Lukas, he’s watching me with an unblinking focus that’s so intense it unnerves me. I drop my gaze and absentmindedly trace the swirling fastlines of one hand with the index finger of the other, considering the absolute permanence of the intricate, looping design.

  They’re beautiful, these fastmarks. There’s no denying it.

  A beautiful cage that would have kept me forever from Yvan.

  Suddenly, the carriage jerks.

  My hands splay against the carriage walls as I struggle to keep from pitching forward.

  Before I have a chance to react, the carriage jerks again, hard, and I brace myself as the vehicle markedly speeds up and begins wobbling precariously from side to side. The movement of the lamplight bars is chaotic now, casting wildly about the carriage interior.

  My eyes meet Lukas’s. He’s also braced himself and looks as surprised as I am.

  A man’s howl of terror slashes through the night air, and the horses shriek. Lukas pulls his wand, his gaze fierce as he peers out the windows and motions for me to stay back.

  Wide-eyed, I, too, look out the windows and frantically search the dark as a sickening realization washes over me. “Lukas—”

  The carriage gives another violent jerk to the side.

  Lukas reaches for me, his hand coming tight around my arm, steadying me as we both struggle for balance, his body tense and coiled as the carriage lurches about haphazardly and begins to veer on and off the road.