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My muscles relax. Unconscious, but not dead.

I back away, moving into my house, using my power rather than my hand to close my front door.

Time to go.

I make my way back across the living room towards my mother’s bedroom. It’s only as I lay my hand on the doorknob that I realize it’s quiet. Far too quiet.

Unease slices through me as I open that door.

Beyond it, my mother’s room is exactly how I left it, save for three things: my inheritance is hidden again, the back door is open, and my mother is gone.

She fled, I tell myself. But the hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end, and there’s a taste to the air …

Hostile magic.

This time, I become one with the darkness before I can even think the command, disappearing from my mother’s room and reappearing right outside her back door.

A short ways away I can hear voices, and my mother’s is one of them.

Cold, clammy fear takes root low in my stomach, and it’s spreading like a vine through me.

Cautiously, I become one with the darkness again, vanishing in one instant, and materializing behind a slimy, mineralized column a moment later.

From where I stand, I can see my mother, her back to me, and across from her …

My blood runs cold.

I see my hair, my eyes, and my jawline all worn by another man, a man I’ve read about so many times I feel like I know him. He’s a man I’ve come to loathe.

My father, Galleghar Nyx, the King of Night.

254 years ago

I stare atthe tyrant king of our realm.

Galleghar’s white hair halos his face; it looks like he’s run his fingers through it far too many times. His black outfit is heavily adorned with gold, his boots so highly polished they shine like mirrors.

His face is inarguably handsome in a cruel sort of way, and from his imposing stature it’s obvious that he’s not just magically gifted but also physically dominant.

… monstrous man …

… murders babes …

… tortures innocents …

… hunts mortals …

… makes even the darkness weep …

The shadows gossip; even they have no loyalty to their king.

All around Galleghar fairy lights hang in the air, though I get the impression he doesn’t need light to see in the dark.

“Eurielle D’asteria,” he says, “my fallen star.”

Whether it’s those words or that voice, my blood runs cold.

“For sixteen years you evaded me.” His eyes drink her in.