Page 31 of Obsidian and Frost

7

~Velra~

The Fade.

It was happening.

I was here.

I was taking that step that I’d so long shied away from.

Actually, more like, shielded myself from.

I looked down at the token now pulsing in my hand because I was right in front of the secret entrance to the Rifted Cradle where this big blowout party was being held.

It was literally just a wall of a shed on the campus grounds about an acre from the main building.

I went to step forward, to pass through, but I pulled up short.

I figured there would be lots of people in there, but they’d likely be spread out all over the place, not the way it had been in the Grand Atrium that day.

Son of a bitch.I’d centered myself for this very moment and here I was being crippled by it anyway, in spite of mentally preparing for the last two hours, which had even included moving out of my comfort zone and not sticking with my usual all-black comfort outfit.

I was wearing a violet leather wrap-dress covered in faux silver studs with thigh-high boots.

I’d never been able to stand out before, seeing as though so much of my life these last few years had been about needing to keep a low profile and hide away.

But I didn’t need to be that intensely cautious anymore.

I was free now.

I could make actual choices, actuallifechoices.

Coming to Wraeven had been about reclaiming that, reclaiming me.

Or, at least, this new hybrid version of me.

I hadn’t been able to even properly explore that ever since I’d been… altered.

This party tonight was another step further down the new path I was trying to carve out for myself.

And it was ridiculous that I was stuck here on the periphery when all I had to do was literally walk forward.

I shook out my hands and cracked my neck.

Come on.

Do it. Get a grip, girl.

“Need a hand there, or too busy with the jazz hands?”

I spun to see Sylas Morgrave now standing right there, just a couple of feet from me.

He was dressed a world away from his usual get-up as well.

A pair of black straight leg jeans molded to his muscular legs with maroon, beige, and black scarves woven through the belt loops. He was wearing an asymmetrical dark crimson-gray tank, no jacket, his toned arms on full display.

He looked more relaxed in this much more casual clothing, and ready to let loose.