Page 54 of Loving Amari

My face goes flat. So this was the choice Aya had to make.

Tabatha starts to walk around me, her form flickering slightly with each step. “I never believed she’d do it. She sacrificed herself for the betterment of Wintermoon.”

“What does this mean?” I ask.

“Everything is about to change for you, but this battle isn’t over. The decisions you make from here on will depend on how you choose.”

“I just want Wintermoon to win this. Tell me what I have to give up and I’ll do it.”

Tabatha waves her hand. The white light fractures like breaking glass, splintering into a thousand shards before reforming into something else entirely. Colors bleed into existence. Rich earth tones. Deep forest greens. The golden glow of torchlight.

Suddenly, we’re standing in a stone chamber lit by flickering candles. The walls are carved with glowing symbols I don’t recognize, and the air reeks of old magic.

I spin around, taking in the scene. This isn’t limbo. This is somewhere real. Somewhere that existed.

In the center of the chamber stands a younger version of Tabatha. Her face is unlined, her eyes bright rather than weary like the present version beside me. She's dressed in ceremonialrobes, black fabric embroidered with silver thread. Her hands glow with blue magic, electric currents running between her fingers.

And there, on his knees before her, is Nathaniel.

He looks different here. Less confident. His face is twisted with rage, his hands bound with glowing blue chains that cut into his wrists. Dark blood drips onto the stone floor. His Moorish garb is torn and stained, symbols of power ripped and fading. He’s struggling against the restraints, his muscles straining, veins standing out in his neck.

“You think you can contain me?” Past-Nathaniel spits. “I am eternal. I am power incarnate. You gave me this magic, and you cannot take it back!”

“I know,” past-Tabatha says calmly, though I can see the strain on her face. Sweat beads on her forehead. Her hands shake slightly as she maintains the spell. “Which is why I’m sending you somewhere you can’t hurt anyone.”

She begins to chant, her voice rising in a language I don’t understand. The blue magic intensifies, spreading from her hands to form a portal behind Nathaniel. Unlike my pink portals to limbo, this one swirls with dark blue energy streaked with black, violent and chaotic.

“I’ve made so many mistakes, but Nathaniel was the worst of them,” present-Tabatha says beside me as we watch the scene unfold.

Past-Nathaniel sees the portal forming behind him and his eyes widen with genuine fear for the first time. “No. No! You can’t do this! Tabatha, please!”

“You forfeited any mercy when you betrayed the Blackwoods,” past-Tabatha says coldly.

She thrusts her hands forward. The chains binding Nathaniel drag him backward toward the portal. He digs his heels into thestone floor, gouging marks into the rock, but it’s useless. The magic is too strong.

“I will return!” he screams as he’s pulled into the swirling void. “I will possess the bloodline! I will take everything from you! Everything!”

The portal swallows him, his screams cutting off abruptly. Past-Tabatha collapses to her knees, gasping for breath. Blood drips from her nose. The strain of the spell has taken its toll.

But then the portal flickers. It doesn’t close completely.

“No,” past-Tabatha whispers, staring at it in horror.

Blue magic seeps out from the edges of the portal like smoke. It coalesces, forming into a shape. Nathaniel’s shape. Not fully corporeal, but there. A ghost. A spirit. His eyes glow with that same malevolent blue.

“You thought that would hold me?” His voice sounds distorted, wrong. “I still have Blackwood magic. I will always find a way out.”

Past-Tabatha stumbles to her feet, raising her hands. Blue electric magic spills from her fingers, more intense than before. She’s pushing herself past her limits, trying to force him back into limbo.

Then the chamber door explodes inward. Aya Bailey strides through the rubble, younger but unmistakable. Her eyes are black with dark magic, her hands crackling with blue energy. She’s beautiful and terrifying, power radiating from her like heat.

“Well, well,” Aya says with a wicked grin, surveying the scene. “Looks like the great Tabatha Blackwood is having trouble.”

“Aya,” past-Tabatha gasps, turning to face this new threat. “Of course you’d show up now.”

“Did you really think you could hide from me forever?” Aya circles into the room, her magic building. “You and your precious Blackwood sisters. Always running. Always hiding.”

“We were protecting what was ours,” past-Tabatha shoots back, trying to maintain her spell on Nathaniel while keeping an eye on Aya.