Nightbane (Lightlark, #2)

It did not. She had seen her own death in her head. She had faced many dangers already. Those thoughts kept her moving forward, through the stillness of Star Isle.

A bird with silver wings cut through the sky like a pair of swords. She recognized it immediately. Celeste—Aurora—had told her about the bird. A few of them had made it to the Starling newland. It was a heartfinch, named so because they always traveled in pairs and often leaned their beaks together in a manner resembling a heart.

This one was alone.

Isla’s fingers slipped down the hilt of her blade at her waist, by habit. The ability in her chest thrummed, as if in warning, and she let it warm her, like drinking a hot cup of tea.

The crumbled wall is your last chance to turn around, Leo had told her around his reed. After that . . . you belong to them.

They looked nervous that Isla was going to confront the creatures. She would show them she was capable of protecting them.

The wall was no more than a few scattered silver stones, with an arch that had partially collapsed. There was a puddle of something at its entrance. She leaned down and dipped a finger inside.

She didn’t need to smell it to know it was blood. It had gone cold.

Just as she straightened, squinting behind her to see Ciel and Avel circling in the distance, it began to rain.

Of course, she thought, glaring up at the sky, wishing she was a Moonling so she could at least direct the water around her. She was no such thing, so she shook her head and resigned herself to being soaked. Water splashed in the puddle of blood, overflowing it, making it run down the mossy cobblestone, through the gaps between them in lines like veins. She studied it for a moment, her stomach turning, then stepped through the remaining half of the arch.


Isla walked for nearly an hour without incident. She had reached the forest where the creatures were said to live. It was nothing like the other Star Isle woods she had visited during the Centennial. Where that one had been sparse, this one was overgrown. Wild. The silver trees had leaves sharp as blades. Their trunks were braided together into thick knots, their roots were the width of her arms. Thorned brambles made up much of the space between them. She would have exerted much of her power to clear a path, but she didn’t need to. She happened upon a wide, clean pathway cut right through the forest, as if made for her. There were no roots or errant flowers or weeds on it. It was smooth. Recently used.

That didn’t make sense. Was there a community living out here? Were they like the Vinderland? Outcasts who had renounced all realms a millennium ago?

Isla gripped her sword hilt again.

She felt little connection with this place. It seemed defensive, a fortress. Lightning struck, slicing the sky in half. Thunder clapped, and more rain showered down, pelting her through the treetops.

She whipped around.

Out of the corner of her eye—she swore she saw movement, far above. Her sword made a high-pitched scratch as she unsheathed it and leaned into her stance.

Seconds passed. Nothing moved. The flash of motion she had seen had been high above her, past even the treetops . . . She squinted through the rain, but the trees were empty. The leaves were too sharp, she reasoned. No people or animals could comfortably climb them. They would cut themselves. Right?

She did not re-sheathe her sword as she stepped forward, into a clearing. A massive lake sat in its center, a slice of silver in the shape of an eye. Its surface vibrated with a million raindrops, tiny circles everywhere, overlapping.

As she walked toward it, she tripped. A root—how did she miss it? No. Upon closer inspection, she saw it was not a root. It was a snake. Its metallic scales shined brightly. It writhed below, lifting its head as if to strike her. She took a step back and noticed a new shadow, casting long in front of her, all the way across the lake. It was too large to be a tree.

It hadn’t been there before.

Chest constricting, Isla slowly turned around.

Lightning struck again, reflecting off the scales of a coiled, hundred-foot-tall serpent.

Isla resisted the urge to scream.

There was the creature. One of them, at least. It was large enough that it could swallow her without any trouble at all. It could swallow a tower without any trouble. She took a step back—

It struck.

At the last moment, Isla rolled to the side, and its fangs sunk into the wet, silver-speckled ground.

Move. She needed to move. Avel and Ciel weren’t far behind, but by the time they got to her, it would be too late.

Before she could react, the serpent recovered and reared back, ready to strike again.

It launched into her, throwing her into the lake.

For a moment, there was silence as she fell through the ice-cold water, a thousand needles through her limbs. Bubbles exploded from the surface—

Then, there was the snake head. She cut her hand as she gripped both ends of her sword in front of her body, to keep it from swallowing her whole. The snake’s massive jaw only widened. Her arms shook as she struggled against its strength, as it pushed her farther and farther down into the water.

Her vision began to lose its sharpness. Her hands and feet began to lose their sensation. The options were clear. Either the serpent was going to eat her, or she was going to drown. Potentially both. She called to her power, but there was no foliage here, in the center of this lake. She tried her shadows and watched them dissolve in the water, useless.

Without warning, the serpent pulled back and she heard a muted roar through the water.

Mind spinning, chest pulsing in pain, lungs begging for air, she crashed through the surface, only to see that Ciel had dug his sword through the space between the serpent’s thick scales. It roared and raged, striking at the Skylings in the sky, as they battled with torrents of air.

She raced out of the water, dripping, freezing, in time to see the snake spin and strike Avel with its tail. She fell from the sky and landed in a heap on the ground. Her twin cried out, distracted, and the snake took that opportunity to attack—

It hit a wall of thorns instead.

Slowly, very slowly, the serpent turned around. Isla stood there, panting, arm raised. She had power.

She would use it.

Isla kicked off her shoes. She dug her feet deep into the muddy ground and focused. Found her center. Cleared her thoughts. The connection clicked.

She had been practicing.

Her eyes opened, and the forest raged. The woods rose around the serpent, so quickly it was trapped before it could move an inch. Thick roots acted as chains, tree trunks curled around its body, vines pinned it in place. By the time Isla was done, it couldn’t wriggle even an inch out of its prison. She expected the serpent to roar again, or try to strike, but it just watched her.

She was panting. Her chest felt hollow. Too much power had been used in too short of a period. Her gaze shifted to Ciel, who was cradling Avel’s head. Relief rained down her spine. The Skyling was awake.

Isla was about to tell Ciel to get his sister help, when the serpent suddenly slipped out of its confines. She watched, frozen in place, as the snake shrunk, turned, and uncoiled—

Until it became a woman.

She easily walked through the tower of restraints Isla had made, tilted her head, and said, “Wildling?”

Isla didn’t breathe as the woman stepped forward. She was wearing a long dress that trailed across the floor, made up of the same scales she had just worn across her body.

As a snake.

“What are you?” Isla demanded. She had never heard of a person being able to change into an animal before. It was an impossible ability.

The woman tilted her head at Isla, the movement purely serpentine. “You don’t recognize your own people?”

She . . . used to be Wildling? Had she somehow, like the Vinderland, abandoned her realm?

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