His eyes bore into mine, willing me to do as commanded. I understood at that moment that he didn’t want to watch the life fade from my eyes as he slit my throat—that he took no pleasure in doing the will of The Father.
I did, letting them drift closed. Ringing filled my ears, drowning out my mother’s hoarse cries and the sound of Brann trying to console her. My body filled with warmth despite the cool ocean breeze against my face, like the press of a warm hearth on a cold winter’s night, the stars shimmering outside the window as I cuddled up with a book.
It was the first moment of contentment I’d felt, the first moment when there wasn’t any pain. I didn’t want to hurt anymore. I didn’t want to be afraid of what was to come.
I drew in a breath, feeling the High Priest dig his knife deeper into my skin and begin to drag it to the side. Sudden awareness burst through my contentment, the impression of someone banging on the other side of a doorway, though there was none to be found.
The world shook as an animalistic roar came from the other side of the Veil in front of me, raising the hair on my arms, and making the back of my neck tingle.
My eyes sprang open to watch a streak of black surge through the fabric of the Veil. “Did you see that?” Lord Byron asked, stepping forward and closing the distance between us. I turned my attention back to him, following his line of sight to where a ripple of bright light followed the black surge.
Behind me, everyone froze as a collective unit as we stared in awe-filled horror at the Veil. The Mist Guards approached the boundary, their hands on the hilts of their swords as they prepared for the worst.
“What do we do?” Lord Byron asked, staring at the curtain of magic as it pulsed and throbbed as if it was being battered against from the other side. Sounds of tearing and wordless anger crossed through the barrier, while silence reigned on our side.
Another shock of inky darkness spread through it, throbbing in time with the beating of my heart in my chest. I couldn’t breathe, didn’t dare to close my eyes as I rose to my feet. “We need to strengthen the Veil,” the High Priest said, turning to me once again.
He touched my shoulder, shoving me to my knees in a way that was far less graceful than I’d managed the first time. I sprawled forward, landing on my hands and knees with my face only a breath from the shimmering and pulsing magic. Blood dripped from my throat and landed upon the soil, trickling over the grains as if in slow motion.
The ground convulsed as if the world itself was angry, quaking beneath me as another wave of black rippled through the wavering white at the edge of the boundary. The High Priest moved toward me, his knife coming straight for my throat in a way that I knew would kill me without delay.
I reached out with one hand, touching a single finger to the magic that called to me. A shock of electricity spread up my arm, drawing a pained gasp from my lips as the sky rumbled in response, the sound reverberating through the open field of gardens.
The High Priest froze as he stared at the way darkness bled through the Veil, bathing the world in shadow and drowning out the sun. It spread forward, oozing across the sky until it covered the clouds above, eclipsing all the light from our world. “What have you done?” His eyes were wide with terror, having heard the myths we’d all been taught. The legends of what lies beyond the Veil shaped us all, a warning of what could come if we made the mistake of poking at things that were better off left alone.
Of the monsters who would come to steal us from our beds in the night, never to be seen again. Of the humans unfortunate enough to be marked by the Fae, chosen for a life that amounted to being nothing more than a wretched pet.
The ground shook so violently that the High Priest and Lord Byron fell to their knees beside me. The people closest to the boundary behind us screamed, turning and racing through the gardens that stood between them and safety as cracks fissured through the Veil and the mist that separated our worlds filtered through.
Black streaks penetrated the mist, creeping like spider veins over the horizon. The Veil stopped blowing in the wind, suddenly, as if frozen to glass.
“Run,” Lord Byron whispered, getting to his feet clumsily. There was nothing but panic in his expression, the terror of what would come should the magic fail after centuries of protecting us.
And then the Veil shattered.
Broken shards rained down across the crops closest to the boundary. The wave of pure, undiluted power broke across the field. In the place where the Veil had once shimmered, only the wall of mist between realms remained, open to any who dared to traverse the land and sea between realms, to cross from here over to Alfheimr or enter the realm of humans.
Time slowed, and what felt like an eternity passed while I turned my head and locked eyes with Lord Byron. He fell first, knocked backward before I felt the blast of inky power against my skin. Like nothing I’d ever felt before, it seeped into the cracks in my skin and made itself at home within this body, which had once been mine, but now felt like something else entirely.
The power sank inside me before it shoved me backward, lifting me off my hands and knees and twisting my body in the air with the force of the explosion that rippled through the gardens. I only stopped when my spine hit the soil and my eyes stared up at the slowly blackening sky, as those tendrils of darkness wound their way around the sun.
Night fell in truth, and when the blades of grass tickled my skin where it peeked out of my dress and light cloak, for a brief moment, I wondered if the sun would ever rise again.
And then I felt nothing but blinding pain.
7
My entire body throbbed as I fought my way to my knees, gasping through the pain that erupted inside me, as if my very soul was being burned alive and ripped in two, tearing through my skin until it was open for all to see.
My determination to check on my family was enough motivation to push through. I sank one hand into the dirt beneath me, clawing at the grains until they wedged under my nails. The other went to the searing pain on my neck, covering the skin that felt hot to the touch. I tore my hand away before the burn could scald it, my neck sizzling like a fresh brand on a horse’s hide.
I spun as I stood, glancing over to where Brann knelt over our mother, her chair knocked backwards by the force of the shattering Veil. His gaze met mine, his wide eyes filled with terror as I closed the distance between us. The High Priest and Lord Byron hadn’t yet managed to get to their feet, lying on the ground as I moved past them in confusion.
Why wasn’t anyone else moving?