Page 10

The Darkest Night

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T he lantern's flame flickers violently in my hands, struggling against the unnatural darkness that seems to press in from every corner of Frostspire Keep. It's been like this all evening—each light we place growing dimmer faster than the last, as if the Winter Solstice is determined to drown us all in shadows.

"Here's another one, Miss Everly." Nolan passes me a heavy brass lantern, its ornate metalwork warm against my fingers in that strange way I've come to associate with magic. Like everything else in this castle, it feels alive, aware. Even now, after Ronan's harsh dismissal yesterday, objects still react to my touch as if they're trying to tell me something.

"Thank you, Nolan." I place the lantern carefully on a carved stone shelf, trying not to remember how Ronan looked when he ordered me to leave—the silver gleam in his eyes, the way the temperature dropped with each cold word.

"Mother says the castle always gets like this on the longest night," Nolan says, retrieving another lantern from his basket. His young face is serious in the wavering light, making him seem older than his years. "But it feels different this year. Like the darkness is hungry."

I pause in adjusting a crooked candle, struck by his choice of words. "Hungry how?"

He shrugs, but his movements are careful as he lights another wick. "Just... hungry. Like it's trying to eat all the light. Even the magic feels different." His eyes widen slightly, as if realizing he's said too much. "I mean?—"

"It's alright," I assure him, keeping my voice gentle. "I know about the magic. About the curse."

"That's why you're still here, isn't it?" He looks up at me with surprising insight. "You want to help break it."

The lantern in my hands pulses once, then dims dramatically. Like the castle itself is responding to his words. We've been at this for hours—placing lights throughout the corridors—but the darkness keeps pressing in, hungry and insistent, just as Nolan said.

"What do you know about the Winter Solstice?" I ask, partly to distract us both from the oppressive gloom. The brass feels unusually warm under my fingers, almost vibrating with that same energy I felt in the library when Ronan kissed me.

"Old stories, mostly." Nolan sets another lantern carefully on a window ledge. "About how the veil between worlds grows thin on the longest night. How magic bleeds through more easily." He glances around before lowering his voice. "Mother says that's why we need more light tonight than ever before. Because of what happened with Master Rurik?—"

He stops abruptly, face paling as he realizes what he's said. The nearest lantern flickers wildly, casting strange shadows on the wall.

"It's alright," I say again, though my heart races at the mention of Ronan's brother. "You can tell me."

"No, he can't."

Ronan's voice cuts through the darkness like a blade of ice. He stands at the end of the corridor, his tall frame backlit by dying lamplight, radiating a cold fury that makes the air itself seem to freeze. Even from here, I can feel the curse writhing beneath his skin, responding to his anger.

"Nolan," he says, not taking his eyes off me. "Your mother needs you in the kitchen."

The boy hesitates, looking between us with obvious concern. His fingers tighten on the basket of lanterns. "But Miss Everly and I haven't finished?—"

"Now, please."

Something in Ronan's tone makes Nolan shrink slightly. He squeezes my hand quickly before hurrying away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the oppressive silence. Each lantern seems to dim further as Ronan approaches, as if the darkness follows in his wake.

"You shouldn't be here." His voice is controlled, measured, but there's something beneath the surface—a strain that makes my heart ache. "I told you to leave."

"And I told you I won't." I lift my chin, refusing to back down despite the way the temperature continues to drop. "Not until I understand what's really happening here."

"What's happening is that you're making everything worse." He moves closer, and the nearest lantern flickers violently. In this light, his grey eyes seem to glow with an inner fire. "Your presence here, your interference with the castle's magic—it's destabilizing everything."

"That's not true." The memory of our kiss floods back—how the magic had surged around us, pure and alive. How for one moment, everything had felt right. "You know it's not. The magic responds differently when we're together. It gets stronger?—"

"Exactly!" His control slips for a moment, raw emotion bleeding through. "The curse feeds on that strength. Uses it. Every time you interact with the castle's magic, every time you —" He cuts himself off, jaw clenching. "You need to go. Before it's too late."

Something snaps inside me. All the hurt, all the confusion of the past days rises up like a wave. Without thinking, I turn and stride toward the library—toward Ember. Ronan's sharp intake of breath tells me he knows exactly where I'm heading.

"Miss Everly—" His voice carries a warning now. "The Arcanum is forbidden. Especially tonight."

"Everything is forbidden!" I push through the heavy doors, anger giving me strength. "Every time I get close to understanding something, you push me away. But I'm not letting you?—"

The words die in my throat as I enter the library. The air feels different tonight—charged with an energy that makes my skin prickle. Books tremble on their shelves, and the shadows seem to move with purpose, gathering in the corners like living things. The magic pulses around us, stronger than I've ever felt it.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with." Ronan follows me in, his voice tight with barely controlled emotion. "The magic here is dangerous tonight. Unstable."

"Then help me understand!" I turn to face him, ignoring how the room's energy seems to build around us. "Stop shutting me out and just tell me the truth!"

The air shimmers suddenly, like heat waves rising from summer pavement. The sensation I've come to associate with Ember intensifies, and then?—

Everything changes.

The library dissolves around me in a swirl of magic and memory. I'm still standing in the same space, but the room I see is different—younger somehow, filled with a light that seems to come from the walls themselves. Two men argue near the great windows, their voices echoing strangely in my head.

Ronan, years younger, his face less haunted. And beside him, a mirror image with colder eyes—Rurik. The resemblance is startling, but there's something off about Rurik's presence, like oil floating on water. Dark energy seems to pulse around him as he gestures angrily.

"You don't understand what this power could do," Rurik's voice echoes as if underwater. "The Nexus is just the beginning. With the right sacrifice?—"

The scene shifts violently. Now I'm seeing the library floor covered in strange symbols that burn with an inner light. Rurik stands in their center, blood dripping from his palms onto the ancient stones. The castle—Ember—screams in my mind, a sound of fundamental wrongness as magic bleeds from the walls.

"You'll destroy everything!" Ronan's voice, thick with horror. But it's too late.

Another flash: Ronan on his knees, agony written across his features as darkness writhes around him. I feel Ember's pain as something vital breaks, as the curse takes root in the castle's foundations. The walls shudder, and magic seeps out like blood from a mortal wound.

"Stop this!" Present-day Ronan's hands grip my shoulders, the contact sending electricity through my whole body. The library's magic surges violently in response, books flying from their shelves as pages rustle like startled birds. "You have to stop!"

"I'm not doing anything!" But even as I say it, I know it's not entirely true. Something in me is pulling these memories from the castle itself, from Ember. The magic swirls around us like a storm, responding to emotions I can barely contain. "The castle is trying to show me?—"

"This is exactly why you have to leave." His fingers tighten on my shoulders, and I can feel him trembling. The nearest bookshelf groans as shadows writhe around it. "The curse—it's using you somehow. Using our connection to grow stronger."

"No." I shake my head, still reeling from the visions. My heart pounds with certainty even as tears burn my eyes. "That's not what's happening. The magic responds differently when we're together. It gets stronger, yes, but not darker. Not cursed. Can't you feel it?"

"You don't understand what's at stake!" His voice cracks with desperation. A particularly violent surge of magic extinguishes every lantern in the room, leaving us in darkness broken only by the faint glow of magical energy. "If anything happened to you?—"

I grab his wrists where he's still holding my shoulders, refusing to let him pull away. "Then help me understand! Stop protecting me and just tell me the truth!"

For a moment, something raw and vulnerable flashes across his features. The magic pulses between us, warm and alive, so different from the cold darkness of the curse. Books continue to swirl through the air, and the shadows in the corners seem to breathe with our shared tension.

But then his expression hardens, and he steps back, breaking our connection. The temperature plummets instantly, frost spreading across the windows in delicate, deadly patterns.

"The truth is that you're making everything worse." Each word falls like ice between us. "Your presence here is accelerating the curse. The castle is dying faster because of you. Because I was weak enough to let you stay."

"You're lying." My voice shakes, but I hold his gaze. The magical energy in the room pulses with my words, making the shadows dance. "I can feel it, Ronan. The magic is different when we're together. It's trying to tell us something?—"

"It's trying to destroy us!" He sweeps his arm out, gesturing at the chaos around us. Books hover in the air, their pages fluttering with supernatural wind. Frost creeps across every surface, beautiful and deadly. "Look at what's happening! The curse is feeding on our connection, using it to grow stronger. And when it finally breaks?—"

He cuts himself off, jaw clenching. A wolf's howl echoes from somewhere outside, lonely and desperate in the darkness.

"When it breaks what?"

"Everyone dies." The words come out as barely more than a whisper, but they hit me like physical blows. "The staff, the wolves, everyone bound to this place. Their lives are tied to the curse now. And you—" His voice breaks, and the nearest window pane cracks with a sound like shattering hope. "You'll die too, if you stay. I won't let that happen."

The temperature plummets further, ice crystals forming in the air between us. The magic that usually fills the library feels hollow now, wounded. Even the books settle back onto their shelves as if they've lost the will to fight.

"So pushing me away is your solution?" I take a step toward him, even as he backs away. "After everything we've seen? Everything we've felt?"

"It's the only solution." All emotion drains from his voice, leaving it as cold as the frost-covered windows. "Pack your things and go. Tonight. Before the curse takes root in you too."

"Ronan—"

"That's an order." He turns away, his shoulders rigid with tension. In the magical half-light, his silhouette looks carved from shadow and pain. "Alistair will arrange transportation. Don't make me force you out."

The last traces of warmth flee the room, leaving only darkness and the soft sound of settling books. Everything that made the library feel alive—feel like Ember—seems to withdraw, as if the castle itself is mourning.

I want to argue. Want to make him see that pushing me away isn't the answer. But the look in his eyes when he finally turns back—that mixture of fear and grim determination—tells me it would be useless. Tonight, at least, the darkness has won.

The walk back to my room passes in a blur of shadows and dying lamplight. My hands shake as I pack a small bag, though I leave most of my things behind. It feels wrong, like I'm abandoning something vital. Someone vital.

The castle groans around me, ancient stones shifting in the cold. Or maybe they're crying. Tonight, on the longest, darkest night of the year, it's hard to tell the difference.

When I step outside, the winter air bites at my skin with supernatural sharpness. The darkness feels absolute, broken only by the distant glow of wolves' eyes watching from the tree line. Their howls have turned mournful, as if they know what's happening. What's being lost.

I look back at Frostspire Keep one last time. In the highest window, a figure stands watching—Ronan's silhouette black against the grey night. The sight makes my heart constrict painfully in my chest. Even from here, I can feel the curse's cold grip on everything I'm leaving behind.

"I'm not giving up," I whisper to the watching darkness. To Ember, to the castle, to Ronan himself. The words hang in the frozen air like a promise. "This isn't over."

The wolves howl again as I walk away, their voices echoing through the longest night of the year. Behind me, Frostspire Keep fades into the darkness like a dream slipping away at dawn. Snow begins to fall, thick flakes that seem to glow with their own faint light.

But I know the truth now. I've seen it in those visions, felt it in the magic that pulses between Ronan and me. Whatever he says, whatever he believes, pushing me away isn't the answer. The curse may feed on isolation, but love—real, fierce, unshakeable love—that's something else entirely.

And tomorrow, when the sun rises, I'll start figuring out how to prove it.

The curse wants us apart. Wants us isolated and cold and afraid.

But I'm done letting the darkness win.