Page 57

With careful movements, Archer slipped on the shadow gloves and opened the book. The pages seemed to be made of something between paper and light. Translucent yet substantial. Strange symbols danced across the surface, rearranging themselves as we watched.

"It's written in the angelic tongue," Archer explained. "But it's translating itself for me."

For the next hour, Archer pored over the book, occasionally reading passages aloud or showing us illustrations that made my stomach clench with dread. The Shadow Beast, as we'd been calling it, was far older and more terrifying than I'd imagined.

"The First Dark," Archer read, his voice taking on an odd cadence that wasn't quite his own. "Before creation, there was darkness. Not evil, not yet, simply the absence of light. But when light was created, a portion of that original darkness became resentful. It gained awareness, purpose."

"So we're dealing with primordial darkness?" Rowen asked, his expression grave. "Something that predates even Hell?"

Archer nodded. "According to this, it has been defeated before, but never destroyed. Only pushed back into the spaces between worlds, where it waits for an opportunity to return."

"And that opportunity is me," I said, the realization settling like ice in my veins. All three men turned to look at me. "Isn't it? That's why it's coming for me."

Archer hesitated, then nodded again. "My mother believes it's chosen you because you have power, Sierra. More power than you realize. Your ability to communicate with the dead is just the beginning. You stand at a crossroads between life and death, light and dark. The Shadow Beast wants to use you as a vessel to fully enter this world."

My legs suddenly felt too weak to support me. I sank into the nearest chair, heart pounding in my ears. "So it wants to... possess me? Use my body?"

"It wants to absorb your power and use it as an anchor to manifest completely," Archer clarified, though that hardly made me feel better.

"How do we stop it?" Rowen demanded, his commanding tone a small comfort in the face of such an ancient threat.

Archer turned to another page, revealing what looked like a battle scene. Figures wielding light against a formless darkness. "The last time it was defeated, it was by a being of dual nature. Someone who carried both darkness and light within them."

The implication hung in the air for a beat before Callum broke the silence.

"Someone like you," he said to Archer. "Half demon, half angel."

Archer's expression was unreadable as he nodded. "My angelic heritage gives me access to light magic. Powers ofhealing and banishment. Powers I've barely explored because using them makes me vulnerable to detection by other angels."

"So you have to use your light to fight this thing," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fear threatening to choke me. "The very power you've been hiding your whole life."

He met my gaze, and I saw uncertainty flash across his features before he masked it. "Yes. The ritual detailed here will force the Shadow Beast back into the between-spaces for another age. It won't destroy it, nothing can, but it will save you, Sierra."

The way he said my name made my chest ache. There was such determination in his voice, such protectiveness.

"What does this ritual require?" Rowen asked, all business.

Archer detailed the complex ritual. The ingredients needed, the specific timing, the precise words and gestures required to channel angelic light into a weapon of banishment. The whole time he spoke, I felt myself growing more and more numb, more distant, as if I were watching the scene from outside my own body.

This was happening because of me. Because something ancient and evil wanted to use me as a doorway into our world. Because I was special in some way I'd never asked to be.

I barely registered when they finished discussing the logistics, when Rowen declared he would procure the rarer ingredients, when Callum closed the shadow dome over the book for safekeeping. My mind was spinning with the implications of everything I'd learned, with the crushing weight of responsibility and fear.

"Sierra?" Archer's voice broke through my thoughts. "Did you hear what I said?"

I blinked, focusing on his face. He had kneeled in front of my chair, his eyes level with mine, concern etched into every line of his handsome face.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears.

"I asked if you were okay," he repeated, his hands resting on my knees. "You haven't said anything for the past twenty minutes."

Had it been that long? I looked past him to see Rowen and Callum watching me with similar concern.

"I..." I tried to form words, to express the tumult of emotions churning inside me, but nothing adequate came out. Instead, I just shook my head slightly.

"Talk to us, flower," Callum urged, his normally teasing tone absent. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"You're safe here," Rowen added, his deep voice reassuring. "Nothing can reach you while you're with us."