Page 42 of Awakened Destiny (The Dark Ascendant #3)

Brigid

The cardboard box sinks under the weight of my sweaters as I place another folded garment on top. Around me, my room sits half-dismantled—clothes in piles, books in stacks. Moving in with my mates. The thought still doesn't feel real.

My fingers linger on the soft fabric of my favorite yellow cardigan. It reminds me of my old life, before. Even though I ’ m just moving to a different room in the building, this feels like crossing from one life into another.

"You're being melodramatic," I mutter to myself, shoving the sweater into the box with more force than necessary.

After everything that's happened since I arrived at the academy—discovering my shadow magic, learning about the prophecy, nearly dying during the Harrowing—moving in with a bunch of men bound to me by fate feels like the least crazy part.

I think of my old self. Would she understand any of this? The fated mate bond that ties me to Lochan, Callen, Rory, Marius, and Tiernan? The shadow magic that pulses beneath my skin? The destiny in my blood?

"She'd probably tell me to pack faster," I say to the empty room.

The excitement bubbles up again, warring with the knot of anxiety in my stomach. I want this. I want them. But there's that voice in the back of my head—the one that sounds suspiciously like my aunt—whispering about how I'll mess this up, how I always do.

My hands stop mid-fold over a stack of t-shirts. What if moving in with them changes things? What if they see all my flaws up close and realize I'm not worth the trouble? I leave my underwear lying on the floor. Sometimes I have two or three empty tea cups on my nightstand. I ’ m grumpy if I don ’ t get enough sleep. They ’ re going to have to live with me and all of my shortcomings. I might be a queen now, but I still snore. What if they change their minds, fate be damned?

Three sharp knocks on my door cut through my spiraling thoughts.

I freeze, fingers still clutching the shirt. The knocks come again, more insistent this time.

Something's wrong. I can feel it. My magic stirs in response.

"Just a second," I call.

I move toward the door, and with each step, the feeling of wrongness intensifies. By the time I reach the door, my heart hammers against my ribs.

I pause, hand hovering over the doorknob. The magic inside me whispers warnings. Whatever waits on the other side of this door, it's not good news.

"Who is it?" I ask. It ’ s not one of the boys; they have a distinct inability to understand the principle behind knocking and waiting to be invited inside.

No answer comes.

The silence stretches. I could ignore it. Go back to packing. Call one of my mates.

Instead, I grasp the doorknob and pull it open. Whatever awaits on the other side is unavoidable. I know that instinctively.

Eira stands in my doorway.

"What do you want?" I keep my voice flat, cold. The memory of her betrayal is still painful. Her revealing the location of the ritual chamber, setting everything in motion that nearly got me, and the men I loved, killed.

"Brigid, please." Her voice comes out breathless, rushed. "I need to talk to you."

I cross my arms tightly over my chest. "I think we've talked enough."

"It's Laria." Eira's words tumble out. "She's... she's not right. I saw her preparing something. Blood magic. The forbidden kind."

"And why would you tell me this?" My eyes narrow. "Last I checked, you two were pretty cozy."

Her feather-light brown hair shifts as she shakes her head frantically. "No, you don't understand. I made a mistake. A terrible one. But right now, I'm trying to warn you because she's coming for you."

"Right." I laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "And I should trust you why, exactly?"

“ Please, you have to believe me.”

Part of me wants to slam the door in her face. But the terror in her eyes seems genuine, and my magic is humming beneath my skin, sensing danger.

"Why now?" I demand. "Why help me now?"

Tears gather in Eira's eyes. “ I never wanted anyone to get hurt. I was doing what my family told me to do. But Laria's lost her mind. The blood magic, it's changing her.”

I weigh her words, trying to decide if this is another trap. My instincts are screaming warnings, but I can't tell if they're about Laria or Eira herself.

"You need to leave," Eira pleads. "Right now. Before she finds you alone."

"Why should I run? I'm not scared of Laria."

"You should be." Eira's voice breaks. "What she's done, it's twisted her. She's not just jealous anymore. She's obsessed with destroying you."

I feel magic gathering in my palms, instinctive and protective. "Then let her try."

Eira steps forward, desperation etched across her face. "I'm trying to make things right."

She might be telling the truth. But it ’ s too late for Eira and me. Our friendship was special once. I wish with all my heart that we could have that again, though that is impossible now.

I turn back to my room and pick up a bag. I ’ ll come back for the rest of it later.

“ I have somewhere to be,” I tell Eira, shutting the door behind me. “ Excuse me.”

Without waiting for her response, I push past her and step into the corridor, my thoughts only of walking toward the comfort of Callen, Rory, Marius, Tiernan, and Lochan. They'll know what to make of all of this.

The moment I step into the hallway, the air changes. The temperature plummets, raising goosebumps on my skin. The shadows along the walls seem to deepen, stretching toward me with grasping fingers. The usual ambient sounds of the academy, distant voices, footsteps, the creaking of the old building, fall silent.

Something's wrong. Very wrong.

My steps falter as dread crawls up my spine. The corridor stretches before me, suddenly seeming miles long. I feel like the walls of the building themselves have turned hostile.

A scent like copper and ash fills my nostrils. Blood. Fresh and potent.

I barely have time to react before the air behind me ripples like water, and Laria materializes in a burst of crimson light. Her blonde hair is wild, tangled like a windstorm has ravaged it, and her pale eyes burn with an unnatural, sickly glow. The power radiating off her is chaotic, unstable, like a bomb about to explode. Her lips curl into a feral smile, and her voice slithers through the silence.

"Leaving so soon, Brigid?"

I spin around, my heart pounding, my magic surging to the surface. Shadows coil around my arms, ready to strike. "What the hell do you want, Laria?"

She tilts her head, her movements jerky and unnatural, as if she ’ s not entirely in control of her own body. "Oh, just your life. Nothing personal." Her laugh is high-pitched and unhinged, echoing unnaturally in the empty corridor.

Before I can respond, she lunges at me with terrifying speed. Her hand shoots out, and a wave of magic erupts from her fingertips. It crashes into me like a tidal wave, slamming me against the wall. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs, and I feel something crack in my shoulder. Pain shoots through me, sharp and blinding, but I grit my teeth and force myself to stay upright.

Laria ’ s eyes gleam with madness as she steps closer, her movements unnervingly fluid, like a predator stalking its prey. "You think you ’ re so special, don ’ t you? The whore queen. But you ’ re nothing. A weak, disgusting black hole of pathetic nothingness."

I push off the wall, my shadows writhing. "You ’ re one to talk," I spit back, trying to steady my breathing. "Look at you. You ’ ve destroyed yourself for power you can ’ t even control."

Her face twists with rage, and she lashes out again, another wave of blood magic surging toward me. This time I ’ m ready. My shadows push forward, meeting her attack in a clash of dark and crimson energy. The force of it sends me skidding backward, my boots scraping against the floor.

Laria laughs again. "You think your little shadow tricks can stop me? You have no idea what I ’ m capable of now. You ’ re nothing but a puppet for that goddess inside you."

I don ’ t respond, channeling my energy into the shadows. They wrap around her, trying to pin her down, but she breaks free with a snap of her fingers. Her blood magic lashes out like a whip, cutting through my defenses and leaving searing pain in its wake.

I stumble back, clutching my side where her magic struck. Blood seeps through my fingers, warm and wet.

Her laughter echoes, sharp and mocking, as she steps closer. "Nestor begged for his life, you know," she says, her voice dripping with malice. "He cried like a child. But I needed him, Brigid. His blood was the key to unlocking this power. And now, I ’ m unstoppable."

My stomach twists at her words, but I force myself to focus.

"You ’ re insane," I say, my voice low and steady despite the pain coursing through me. "You think sacrificing someone makes you strong? It just makes you a monster."

Her eyes narrow, and she flicks her wrist. A blade of blood-red energy forms in her hand, shimmering with dark intent. "Monster? Maybe. But I ’ ll be the monster that ends you."

She lunges again, her movements a blur. I barely dodge her strike, the blade slicing through the air inches from my face. My shadows react instinctively, lashing out at her with tendrils of darkness. They wrap around her arm, yanking her off balance.

I don ’ t have time to think, only act. My shadows tighten, pulling her backwards as I try to create distance between us. But Laria is relentless. With a snarl, she tears free, her blood magic flaring like a wildfire.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eira. She ’ s still standing there, frozen in place, her face pale and her eyes wide with terror.

Her head snaps toward me, and for a brief moment, our eyes lock. Hers are filled with fear, and something that might be regret. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but no words come out, then she turns on her heel and runs away.

"You're in over your head, shadow bitch," Laria hisses, her blonde hair floating unnaturally around her face as if suspended in water.

I dodge another blast of crimson energy, feeling it sear past my cheek.

Another burst of her power slams into the wall beside me, and the large windows shatter inward. Glass rains down, catching the light in deadly fragments. I throw my arms up, my shadows forming a shield, but several shards slice through, cutting my forearms.

"You're making a mistake," I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady as I assess my options. The corridor feels narrower now, charged with magic. "This isn't you. It's the blood magic. It's corrupting you."

Laria laughs, the sound high and unhinged. “ Oh you fool. This is the real me.” She raises her hands, and the shattered glass rises from the floor, suspended in midair. "The me that's tired of dealing with a waste of space like you."

The glass shards shoot toward me like bullets. I drop to the floor, rolling to avoid the deadly barrage, but several pieces tear through my shirt, slicing into my skin. Pain blooms immediately.

I need to end this. My power surges, the shadows deepening around me as I pull from that well of darkness inside. It's dangerous to tap into it so deeply. I might not be able to control it. But Laria is leaving me no choice.

"That's it," she crows, seeing the change in me. "Show me who you really are. Show me your rotten core. Before I tear your heart out."

My shadows expand, filling the corridor with inky blackness that seems to absorb the light.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of," I whisper.