Page 2 of Awakened Destiny (The Dark Ascendant #3)

Brigid

I feel like a heavy fog is pressing down on me, everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I can ’ t breathe, can ’ t think, can ’ t escape. My mind feels like a cage, the bars closing in tighter with every minute that passes. The Morrigan ’ s presence is everywhere, seeping into my bones. Her voice whispers to me, though I don ’ t know what she ’ s saying. It doesn ’ t matter. What matters is the suffocating weight of her, the way she fills every corner of who I am, or was, leaving no space for me.

I try to push back, to claw my way free, but there ’ s nothing to grab onto. My thoughts are scattered, and I feel them leaving me, like sand slipping through fingers. Memories flicker, some sharp and clear, others hazy and distant. I latch onto one.

Newton. The school. The cafeteria.

The smell of stale pizza and overcooked vegetables fills my nose. The sound of laughter, sharp and cruel, cuts through the hum of conversation. I ’ m sitting alone at a table, my books piled in front of me like a shield. But it ’ s not enough.

“ Look at her,” a voice says, deadly sweet. Stacy ’ s voice. “ Does she ever talk to anyone? Or is she just a mute?”

I don ’ t look up. I don ’ t dare. But I can feel their eyes on me, the weight of their stares. The floor beneath me feels hard, unyielding, like it ’ s pressing up against me, trapping me in place.

“ Why don ’ t you go sit with your friends?” someone else says, their laughter sharp. “ Oh wait, you don ’ t have any.”

The words sting, each one a needle prick to my skin. But it ’ s not the words that hurt the most. It ’ s the silence that follows, the way no one steps in, no one says anything. I ’ m invisible, a ghost hovering on the edge of their world.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, it ’ s over. The group moves on, their attention shifting to something else. But the pain lingers, an ache that I can ’ t shake. I gather my books, my hands still shaking, and I leave. I don ’ t look back.

But the memory stays with me, sharp and vivid. And now, trapped in this endless darkness, it feels fresh all over again. The Morrigan ’ s presence grows with it, feeding on the pain, growing stronger.

I try to scream out loud, to push it away—push her away—but there ’ s no sound. There ’ s only the echo of the memory. I ’ m trapped, lost in a sea of anger, pain and fear, with no way out.

Then, in the recesses of my mind, a tiny spark gleams, like the last ember of a dying fire. It ’ s a fragile light, yet it persistently glows, a light in the dark. Something familiar, I realize, is still with me, a delicate thread weaving through the turmoil, refusing to be extinguished. Its magic hums, a gentle vibration that resonates through my very essence.

As I reach out to it, I strain to feel the familiar bonds that once connected me to my mates. Their presence is there, yet it ’ s distant, an ephemeral fluttering on the edge of my consciousness. I call out to them, my voice a desperate murmur in the void of my mind. “ Please, don ’ t leave me here alone.” The words disappear into the void.

I try again, my mental voice growing more urgent, each plea sharper than the last. “ I ’ m here, I ’ m still here. Don ’ t let go, please. I need you. I need you now more than ever.”

And then. A faint, almost imperceptible tug on the bond. It ’ s there and gone. It ’ s a minor comfort, but it ’ s enough to keep me going. I focus on the light, letting its warmth spread through me, countering the cold, dark slithering of the Morrigan ’ s influence.

But she is relentless, her presence a constant shadow in my mind, probing at my weaknesses. She whispers cruel truths, reminding me of past failures, of moments where I felt isolated and alone. The weight of my thoughts feels like lead, making each one a struggle to form. The Morrigan ’ s presence seeps into every corner of my consciousness. Her voice, when it comes, is like silk, smooth and hard to catch hold of, and laced with an underlying malice.

“ Remember, little one,” she murmurs, her words slipping into my mind like a shark through water. “ Remember the pain, the humiliation, the way they made you feel so small.”

I try to push her away, to block out the memories she ’ s stirring up, but they rise to the surface like bubbles in a stagnant pond. Stacy ’ s face appears in my mind, her sneer twisting her beautiful features into something ugly. The memory is vivid, the sounds and smells as real as if I were standing there again.

The hallway of my old school, the lockers lining the walls like metal giants. The smell of disinfectant and stale air. Stacy stands in front of me, her friends flanking her like guard dogs. Her laughter.

“ Look at you,” she sneers, her voice bouncing off the walls. “ You think you ’ re so special. But you ’ re nothing. You ’ re just a freak no one wants around.”

I feel the sting of tears in my eyes, the burn of embarrassment in my cheeks. But beneath that, a fire ignites, a hot, furious anger that threatens to consume me. The Morrigan ’ s voice eggs me on, urging me to embrace that anger, to let it fuel me.

“ Let it out, Brigid,” comes the whisper, her voice a gentle caress in my mind. “ You don ’ t have to be weak anymore.”

I fight against the temptation, against her persuasion. But it ’ s hard, so hard, to resist the pull of that anger. It feels good to let it rise, to let it burn away the pain and the fear. The Morrigan ’ s presence grows stronger, her influence seeping into my veins like poison.

I ’ m tired, so tired, she reminds me. Every moment it ’ s a battle to keep my head above water. Yes. In my mind, it ’ s like a battlefield, torn and scarred from the constant warfare. I just want it to stop, to find some peace.

But then I think of my mates, of their faces and their voices, of the way they make me feel like I ’ m home. I think of Tiernan ’ s bright green eyes and the way he lets me let go. I think of Rory, and his absolute faith in me. Of Callen, and his wicked smile, of Marius, and our indescribable connection. And of Lochan, and how he can possess me fully with just a look. Thinking of the five of them gives me strength, a thin thread of hope that I cling to with all my might. I can ’ t give in, not now, not ever.

The Morrigan ’ s laughter echoes in my mind, a dark, mirthless sound. “ You ’ re mine, Brigid,” she hisses. “ And soon, you ’ ll realize that resistance is misguided.”

I don ’ t know how much longer I can hold out, but I do. For my mates, for myself, I have to keep fighting. The Morrigan may have power, but I also have something: the love of five men, my fated mates, who will move heaven and earth to find me. And that, I tell myself, is stronger than the darkness.

I see their faces, still able to picture them, even as the picture gets hazy. I remember their comforting presence. Like they are my family. The Morrigan hisses in defiance, but I hold on to these memories, grabbing on to them and gathering them to me.

But even as I cling to these memories, they begin to slip away. The Morrigan's presence grows stronger, her dark energy pulsing through me in waves. I feel myself being pulled under, even as I reach up, trying to break through the surface.

A new memory rises. I'm back in Newton, walking down Main Street. The familiar storefronts blur past me: the library where I spent countless hours hiding from the world, my uncle's hardware store where I worked summers, the diner where Stacy and her buddies would gather after school.

And then I see her—Stacy Nangreaves, older now but still radiating that same aura of callous superiority. She's stepping out of a sleek black car, her blonde hair catching the moonlight, her designer clothes a stark contrast to the faded surroundings. Our eyes meet across the street.

Then I realize this is not a memory.

I ’ m seeing Stacy through the Morrigan ’ s eyes. This is real. And I ’ m terrified. Because I can feel what the Morrigan wants to do.

Wants us to do.