Shadow Cursed by May Sage Page 0,17
in front of me.
She's also on her bed. She hasn't pulled me into her mind, this time. She's appeared here, in this world.
"I thought we had an agreement." My voice is dry, but firm.
"I'm within these four walls." She shrugs, callous as always.
I can't even be mad at her twisting our deal to please her fancy. I would have done the same in her shoes.
"You've found something, haven't you?"
I don't reply at first. I'm too busy looking at her, taking her in, wondering if I can touch her. Feel her.
At long last, I turn the book around. "See this line? I believe the author was talking about a Myst. This person—Vern."
"The Master of Darkness," she says. One of us was paying attention, at least. "The title would certainly fit. Isn't that what you do? Mold darkness to your will?"
It sounds like an oversimplification, but I nod all the same.
"And this could be a Storm," she says, pointing to a line on the opposite page.
Spire was "bidding the sky above to answer his commands." Storms are another lost power—air mages with the strength to command tornadoes and lightning, when ten regular air folk would have to use all of their power just to bring a little rain during a drought.
The sky, like the sea, had a will of its own, and did not care to bow to the desires of most of the folk.
"The Master of Death could be a Void," I say.
Her eyes widen with an eagerness I share. Hearing of others who may have been like us is a strange thing, in a world where I've taken for granted that I am alone.
"Well, keep reading!"
We're both enraptured with the rest of the tale. While it occurs to me that I should tell her to rest her mind, I'm glad to see her in front of me, and I'm selfish enough to prioritize my enjoyment over her safety. She's followed her part of the bargain, and stopped herself from roaming Whitecroft with the power of her mind. I faced a hag who could have been crunching on my bones by now. We're both due for some reward.
At the end of the overlong chapter, I know it's time to end this. Part ways. Return to my parents' quarters and get some rest. I'll need it for what is to come.
I remain silent and unmoving, unwilling to voice the word that must be said. Goodbye.
How I despise that word. Loathe it.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" she murmurs.
If the sun rises in the east. If the ocean's capricious, and the desert cruel.
"If I can." I leave the book next to her pillow and walk away. At the door, I hesitate. "Have you heard that your mother has made me part of the high court?"
"Has she, now?" Vlari's secretive grin exasperates me. I suppose we're not past this nonsense. Teasing each other. Keeping secrets. Hiding.
"I'm told it's a small court. Just the family. It seems odd that she'd think to add me. I've only met her once."
I don't ask whether Vlari told her mother to include me. It seems too obvious. The question is, why? Did she suspect I don't feel like I belong to any of the lower courts? How could she? Even Vlari doesn't know me this well.
"I can't claim to know what happens in my mother's mind, but when immortals fell on us, you were protecting the folk. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say that probably branded you as someone trustworthy."
So few words, yet so many twists of the tongue. I roll my eyes. "You know, if you don't feel like answering me, you could simply say so. There's no need for tricks."
She beams. “And what would be the fun in that?"
The Price of Time
Drusk
I go back the next day, and the day after that. I must be a masochist to submit myself to that brand of torture. She does nothing but plague me, make me crave her, and drive me closer to madness.
I need her. I need to be far away from her. I need to taste her. Part of me wants to kiss her unmoving lips, but I’ve never been much of a necrophile.
I could take it up, though.
I’ve buried myself in my work over the last decade. Everyone is used to seeing me enter base at dusk and remain there until darkness fades on the horizon. In the last week, I’ve barely stepped foot there, taking reports when I pass by some rangers on my