Page 17

Relief flooded her as they came to the tear.

At least for now, there weren’t any more ogres in sight. They must be in the forest somewhere or hadn’t discovered the castle yet. She wasn’t about to second-guess their luck.

She turned her gaze down to the shadow vines at her feet, which had returned to a translucent-like state when Breckett had touched her.

Exhaling, she shifted Breckett’s hand to her shoulder, and he didn’t object as he tried—and failed—to cover his gasping breaths.

Closing her eyes, she reached for the shadows.

Instinctively, she lifted her arms and spread her fingers out to summon the shadows from the ground, similar to what she did with earthen magic. Inky black licked up her body, twistingaround her legs, abdomen, and up her arms until they writhed in her palms.

For a moment, she paused, staring at them. More shadows twisted up her body. It felt like a river's current flowed all around her.

Then she willed the chaos into weaves.

The shadows hissed, fighting as she tried to form them into long strands and pull them together into a patch as she’d done so many times before on Shadowbank’s ward with her earthen magic. Immediately, sweat beaded on her brow as she felt what she could only describe asresistance.

The dark had a will of its own. Shadows couldn’t be tamed.

A sudden realization struck her, and an icy fear filled her chest.

If she couldn’t manage to repair the tears, then her friends would be putting themselves in danger for nothing. This would be a colossal waste of time when they could have fled on foot into the forest immediately.

They were relying on her to help them. She wouldn’t leave them to die pointless deaths. Or worse, be taken prisoner by Magnus.

But she was so woefully undertrained in her shadow magic.

The time she’d spent working with Lucinda, a former apprentice of the Witch of the Woods, in Shadowbank seemed so long ago. It felt like another lifetime. It was before her powers had been unleashed, and she had so much she still needed to learn.

And no one to teach her.

Again, she tried to will her shadows to plait together. The vines writhed around her arms, and she felt the stinging kiss of the thorns puncturing her skin.

“Tell me you’re doing something,” Breckett hissed.

Frustration swelled in her chest and a growl escaped her lips. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder,” he said, voice low as he glanced around.

Beyond the tear in the ward, she thought she heard rumbling footsteps.

Sweat poured down the sides of her face as she moved her arms in a sweeping motion, forcing bands of shadow, one by one, into the air. It was like trying to force a tornado in another direction or to contain the power of the oceans with her bare hands. As the shadows slowly acquiesced to her will, she tasted blood, belatedly realizing her nose was bleeding. But she ignored it along with a dizziness forming in her vision.

The shadows formed a crisscross patch that she slowly brought up to the tear in the ward that was nearly two stories in height.

Just then, an ogre emerged from the trees.

It didn’t look at them, unable to see them through Breckett’s invisibility cloak. But it marched with purpose toward the castle and through the tear—and directly into her shadow weaves. They stuck to its cheek like a spiderweb, the thorns clinging to its flesh.

The ogre roared, its arms waving.

The shadows seemed to grip tighter as the creature’s fingers tore at its own flesh in its desperation to free itself from her weaves.

“Did you mean to do that?” Breckett asked as they watched in horror as the shadow vines began creeping up the ogre’s face. In agonizing slowness, the vines plunged into the creature’s eye. Blood spurted everywhere before the ogre fell to its knees with a loud crash and then collapsed onto the ground, unmoving.

The dark weaves dissipated before the shadows at her feet grew thrice as dark as they should be.

She swallowed thickly. “No.”