The shade laughed softly, the sound both sweet and unsettling.“I’ll tell him myself when you bring him to me,” she said.“Your magic won’t compel me yet, dark mage.”Her eyes gleamed with something unreadable.Then, she asked again, softer this time: “Have you seen myson?”
Ren’wyn took an instinctive step back, startled.This was not what she expected.Shades with magic were always more complicated to settle, more resistant—but never before had one acknowledged what she was or pushed back against her magic.Curiosity flared despite her unease.
“Tell me about your son,” Ren’wyn said, testing the shade’s perception, knowing many carried only fragmented impressions of those they’d left behind.
The shade’s mouth twisted into a wry grin, and the movement of her lips was so achingly familiar it sent a chill down Ren’wyn’s spine.
“Fael is a good boy,” the shade said, her tone laced with amusement, as though she knew exactly how those words would affect Ren’wyn.“Beautiful and strong and powerful.He takes after me.He loves his Cloud.They ride every day, and he brushes her down because love matters more to him than status.”
Ren’wyn clutched at the bodice of her dress in surprise.A female berserker.Fael’s mother?What in the name of all that was good was happeninghere?
“Fael is a good boy,” Ren’wyn agreed quietly, unsettled by the shade’s intuition and ease of speech.
The shade giggled, a lilting sound that quickly darkened.“But trouble, dear.Always trouble, which makes his father angry.”Her smile faded, her expression shifting to something brittle and full of pain.“But he is not with his father now, right?”she asked, her voice trembling withfear.
“No,” Ren’wyn said soothingly.“No, he’s with friends who valuehim.”
“Good,” the shade whispered, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
Suddenly, she jerked forward, materializing mere inches from Ren’wyn.Frost formed at the tips of Ren’wyn’s hair and along the shoulders of her sleeves from the shade’s proximity.Ren’wyn fought back a shudder, the intensity of sharing space with the dead causing her stomach todrop.
“Not here, not now, but you must find a way to bring him to me, mage,” the shade begged, her words urgent.“You love him, don’t you?Find a way, please.”
Before Ren’wyn could respond, the shade flickered—then snuffed out completely.
Ren’wyn stood frozen in the middle of the clearing, more stunned and confused than when she’d leftcamp.
Fael’s mother?A prophecy about her that no one had bothered to mention?
And Fael—uncertain at the revelation.The memory made her feel terribly fragile.
Her stomach growled loudly, interrupting her swirling thoughts.
Damn it,I stormed out of camp without food or water like a completefool.
Groaning at her anger-induced stupidity, she pressed her palms against hereyes.
Where even wasshe?
Throwing her hands up in frustration, Ren’wyn turned and headed back the way she hadcome.
An hour later, she was sure she waslost.
She was definitely an idiot—and now she was a scared idiot.
Stopping to drink at a small stream she thought she recognized, she tried to calm the tight panic growing in her chest.Keeping the sun on her left shoulder, she continued west towardcamp.
But the whole stupid forest looked thesame.
The hot, humid air clung to her, and the waist-high ferns made every step feel like a struggle.She kept moving, praying for something—anything—to look familiar.Another hour passed, then two, and desperation began to creep in.
Then she stumbled into a small clearing filled with drying clothes.
Relief floodedher.
She could have cried on the spot and silently vowed never to be so reckless again.
Dropping into the river fully clothed, Ren’wyn sank into the cool water.Embarrassment prickled her skin.If only she had twisted an ankle or sprained a wrist—at least then she’d have an excuse for her foolishness.
