His barrage of questions hits me harder than I anticipated, each one a reminder of the chaotic spiral my life has become. I realize I need to be transparent with Rhett, to explain the complexities and pressures that have driven my actions, hoping he can understand.
“First of all, I haven’t ‘gotten into’ dark magic,” I begin,trying to keep my voice steady. “You say it like I went seeking out trouble. I inherited my magic, which is dark magic, and it wasn’t by choice.” I pause, taking a deep breath to steady myself for the explanation that needs to come next.
“Larc was called to meet as part of this council, the Luminary Council, which has been around forever, I guess. They are responsible for ridding our world of dark magic, for getting rid of the last dark sorcerer to wield it,” I explain, hoping to clarify the gravity of the situation.
Before I can continue, Rhett interrupts harshly, “You say it like it’s a bad thing. We don’t need dark magic in Eguina. There’s already enough darkness here.”
I try to remain calm, not wanting to escalate the tension. “Rhett, you have to understand, the council was attacking me. They wanted to kill me or find a way to strip me of my magic. I had no choice...” The memory of that night’s desperation surfaces.
“Say it. I want to hear you say it. He was like a father to me. He was good to you when you visited here. He was a good man, and you killed him,” he presses, his tone hardening.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I killed him,” I admit, the weight of the confession heavy on my tongue. I want to continue, to defend my actions, but Rhett doesn’t give me the chance.
“You killed him, and from what I hear, he wasn’t the only one. You killed half the people in that room that night because they were trying to protect Eguina from your dark magic. You killed innocent people. Now tell me, how does that make you any better than Aidan himself, or Samael for that matter?”
Hurt, I feel my magic stir, a dangerous boiling beneath my skin.
My shadows yearn to break free, to respond to hisaccusations with the fury they demand. Yet I know that yielding to that impulse would only prove his point. It’s a struggle to keep them contained, to avoid letting the darkness define me as it has defined so many before me. I clench my fists, fighting to keep control, to find a way that can explain and bridge the gulf of misunderstanding and hurt between us.
“Rhett, he may have been good to you, but that night I was cornered. I was provoked,” I say, my voice heavy with the burden of that memory. “I do regret that lives were lost—not because they didn’t force my hand but because it hurt you.” My plea hangs in the air, but Rhett’s shake of his head tells me he’s not ready to accept it.
“You don’t regret what you did. You think it was justified,” he challenges.
I pause, absorbing the accusation, feeling its weight. I have no idea how this escalated so fast, but I need to diffuse things. “Perhaps I don’t regret it, Rhett, because I’m exhausted. I’m exhausted from being a pawn, from being used and tormented. Everything has been stripped from me, and I refuse to let them take my magic too. I will not bow to those elders who parade as sages yet understand nothing of my struggle or my power.” My voice grows firmer, fueled by a mix of defiance and raw honesty.
“That night, I was surrounded by the fearful and the power-hungry, by the cruel and the ignorant, and I defended myself,” I assert. “I defended my very essence.”
I let out a heavy sigh, the air filled with tension and unspoken thoughts. Rhett looks down at his hands in his lap. Seeing his contemplation, I reach over and place my hand atop his.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper softly. He doesn’t pull his hand away, which I take as a sign to continue. “I’m sorry my actions hurtyou. I’m sorry you lost someone you cared about. I’m sorry things have been so bad lately.”
I give his hand a gentle squeeze, hoping to convey my sincerity and my desire to mend what has been broken between us.
But when Rhett finally looks up, his eyes are filled with fury. “I don’t accept your apology. I can’t have you here right now. I thought I could, but I can’t,” he says sharply, knocking my hand away and rising to his feet.
“Rhett, please, I thought we were friends. Can’t we talk for a bit longer?” I plead, standing to face him.
“I’m the new leader of the packs now, and having you here looks bad. It looks like a betrayal to my packs, to my people,” he growls.
A flurry of thoughts swirls through my mind—I want to ask who he fought to become the leader and what kind of moon ceremony happened. I also want to give him a hug, knowing the Lycan Realm could benefit from a leader with a good heart. But he’s already walking to the door, and the reality that he’s ejecting me from his life hits hard. I bend over and pick up Chepi, who had fallen asleep in front of the fire.
“At least tell me this,” I say, stopping in front of the door. “Do you want Kaine to remain regent over Cloudrum? You know he’s actively looking for Samael in hopes he will reclaim the throne. Is that really better than me?”
He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration, and sighs. “I can’t promise I’ll be your ally, Lyra, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’ll try to keep the packs out of it,” he replies.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I can’t be your ally, but I won’t stand against you either. Now go before someone spots you and decides to do something stupid,” he says, opening the door.
I step outside, pausing to turn back, andcatch Rhett’s gaze one last time. “Goodbye, Rhett,” I say. He nods once, his expression unwavering. But as he begins to close the door, I catch a fleeting softness in his eyes—an echo of past closeness.
The door closes with a gentle thud, and I’m left with the lingering sense of what once was and what might have been.
Chapter 9
Lyra
I channelus away from the village and then continue on foot through Cinder Territory. The forests here are predominantly pine, interspersed with the occasional farmland, but it’s too dark to make out much under the night’s cloak. The moon is obscured by a thick fog, and the forest is silent, save for the occasional hoot of an owl. Chepi is exhausted, so I carry him, allowing him to rest while I search for a place for us to stay the night.
