Page 6 of Awakened Destiny (The Dark Ascendant #3)

Callen

We gather at the edge of the academy grounds, ready to go back to that dismal place Brigid used to call home. The Morrigan must be toying with her, bringing her back there. It gives me hope that Brigid is still in there somewhere. Her face flashes in my mind, her gray eyes pleading, and there was nothing we could do to stop the Council. My chest constricts with guilt and anger. We have to reach her while there ’ s still time.

"Right then," Rory's usually cheerful voice carries an edge of tension. "Ready, Your Highness?"

I turn to face them, each a study in barely contained anxiety. Lochan's face is stone, his muscular frame like a spring ready to snap. Tiernan's acting calm, but the way he ’ s got his arms crossed in front of him gives him away. Rory shifts from foot to foot, like a restless animal. And Marius... Marius stands apart, his face an unreadable mask.

I feel the momentousness of the task that lies ahead, considering and discarding possibilities. The truth is, we don't know what we'll find when we reach Brigid. But we can't let doubt cripple us now. We have a job to do, one that ’ s more important than anything I ’ ve ever done. We remind Brigid who she is, what she means to us. To me.

We ’ re all thinking the same thing, wondering, hoping that Brigid is still there. Tiernan speaks, feeling our anxiousness, his words conveying his visions. "The threads of fate are tangled, but not yet severed. There's still hope."

I turn to Marius, noting the slight tremor in his hands, the sheen of sweat on his brow. The Raven King's essence battles within him, held at bay by Fiona's potion. For how long, I wonder?

"Are you ready?" I ask, unable to keep a note of challenge from my voice.

“ Just open the fucking portal, princeling.”

I take a deep breath, not rising to the bait. When we get back, with Brigid—then I can knock the smugness out of him. Something to look forward to later.

The magic of the fae flows through my veins. With it comes thoughts of my birthright, the crown that awaits me. But those concerns are as insignificant as grains of sand compared to the urgency of getting Brigid back in one piece, both mind and body.

"Move your asses," I say, stepping forward to lead the way.

The asphalt squelches beneath my boots as we step through to the other side of the portal. Newton ’ s night air reeks of diesel and mildew—a far cry from the crisp metallic bite of the academy ’ s magical atmosphere. Streetlights flicker over potholes brimming with rainwater. A neon sign across the street sputters in broken cursive, washing the sidewalk in pink light.

It ’ s even more depressing than I remember.

I think about the last time I was here, the damp smell of the leaves on the ground in the forest, the terrified dark-haired girl in the ugly, mustard-yellow sweater who had no idea how special she was. Even then, before I knew about the bond humming beneath my ribs, she made the entire fucking world tilt. I ’ d chalked it up to the adrenaline of having to battle against the blob that was attracted to her magic awakening. Now? Now I know better.

Lochan nudges my shoulder. “ You zoning out, or do we get to stand here admiring the sewage system all night?”

I blink. Rory ’ s already prowling ahead, nostrils flaring as he scans the alleys. Tiernan ’ s fingers skim the brick wall beside him, divining patterns in the mortar cracks. Marius lingers three paces back, shoulders rigid. His eyes are too dark again, pupils swallowing the irises. The Raven King ’ s shadow claws at the edges of Fiona ’ s potion—I can see it in the twitch of his jaw, the way his left hand keeps curling like he ’ s gripping a blade that isn ’ t there.

“ Lead the way,” I say. “ Unless you ’ d rather hold hands and sing campfire songs first.”

He strides past, and we follow, flanking him like reluctant bodyguards. Storefronts blur—boarded-up windows, For Lease signs yellowed with age. A liquor store ’ s security gate rattles as we pass. The place Brigid called home feels like a boneyard dressed in vinyl siding.

She grew up here. The thought needles me. Not the dirt or the decay, but the muted desperation leaching from every cracked curb.

Rory sniffs the air. “ No Brigid. Just... burnt coffee and wet dog.”

“ You sure that ’ s not you?” Lochan mutters.

Marius stops abruptly. A tremor runs through him, brief but I catch it. He tilts his head like he ’ s listening to a frequency the rest of us can ’ t hear. Black ink swirls beneath his collar as if the tattoos themselves are restless. "This way," he growls, already moving.

We pivot down an alley reeking of stale fryer grease. My boots stick to the pavement—discarded gum and decades of grime. Brigid walked these streets in worn sneakers, unaware of the destiny waiting in her blood.

Marius stops under one of the streetlights. His hands tremble, left one worse than the right. When he turns, shadows pool too deeply under his eyes. “ She ’ s close.”

“ Define close.” I step into his space, close enough to see the vein pulsing at his temple. “ Throwing distance close? Stab-you-in-the-kidneys close?”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “ Back off.”

Marius strides ahead without waiting. Typical. I catch his sleeve, leather cold against my fingers. “ You twitch sideways, and I ’ ll peel those pretty tattoos off your skin.”

He shakes my hand loose. “ Don ’ t fucking touch me.”

For a moment, I think he might punch me. But he just turns and stalks ahead, shoulders rigid.

We follow him down another alley, this one even narrower and more rank than the last. The stench of rotting garbage makes my eyes water. Rory gags behind me.

"Fuck's sake," Lochan mutters. "How much farther?"

A cat yowls from a nearby dumpster, making Rory jump.

"Jumpy, mutt?" I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Rory just grunts, his eyes scanning our surroundings warily.

Suddenly, Marius freezes. His whole body goes rigid, and when he turns to face us, his eyes are completely black. The Raven King's essence swirls just beneath the surface, threatening to break free.

Rory's head snaps up, nostrils flaring. "I smell her," he growls, voice rougher than usual. "And something else. Something wrong."

"How far?" Lochan demands.

Before Rory can answer, a scream rips through the night air.