Page 45 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

If I’d thought the Field of Black Stars was cold and barren, it was nothing compared to the ruined castle. My breath turned to fog and goose bumps erupted over my skin. Between one blink and the next, the tips of my fingers were more blue than pink.

The oak tree ignited immediately, primal fire heating me from the inside out.

The nearest shadows twisted violently, sensing my magic.

Freezing in place, I held the rapier aloft and watched the shadows writhe and snap like flags in the wind.

They did not seek me, like Kian had warned, but they were definitely aware of my presence.

The junior scholar had likened the Blight to locusts or gluttonous direwolves, but these shadows didn’t seem the devouring type.

If anything, they resembled anchored ghosts fighting against their shackles.

Swallowing, I slid a foot forward and slunk deeper into the castle courtyard.

The shadows remained rooted, leaning after me like plants straining after the light.

I took another slinking step, then another, my confidence growing.

The shadows weren’t rooted everywhere, but they did twist and wriggle from every thing.

The floor, the walls, the stairs, the doors, the windows, the battlements, the towers, all the ruined bits of castle that had fallen hither and yon…

They weren’t wholly black, either, the smaller ones gray and even translucent around the edges.

Like the thread-thick tentacles of a jellyfish, I could brush up against one and not even realize it until it was too late.

Then I’d really discover who was right about the Blight, the scholars or the faelene.

No touchy, no touchy , I told myself as I ventured further inside.

I cut through each shadow directly in my path or those bending too close.

All those years of my father’s training to “keep my head on the swivel” really came in handy now.

My anxiety lessened to a healthy level of paranoia, and I was able to assess my surroundings without yelping at every little thing.

The courtyard was styled after a Roman cavaedium—a square, open space bordered by a colonnade with a recessed pool at its center to collect rainwater.

Some of the pillars were broken, their bones scattered across the courtyard and those sections of the colonnade collapsed.

Still, I could not see what I knew to be a blue sky above.

In the recessed pool, which held no water, was a cracked fountain. The mermaid sculpture wore a tiara identical to the one in Kian’s books—the Jewel of the Sea. The mermaid’s arms were missing in the classic Venus de Milo style, which left her gold and bejeweled trident in pieces on the ground.

Slashing a few shadows out of the way and releasing a flurry of butterflies and petals, I maneuvered quickly to the fallen treasure.

It was tough sticking the pieces into Ler’s velvet bag with one hand, but no way was I releasing Faebane.

To my relief, it didn’t seem to matter how much I put it the bag, for its weight did not increase.

At least Ler’s magic wasn’t a total ass like he was.

I was tempted to grow some helpers to collect while I snooped around, but I wasn’t sure how the shadows would react.

Best not to risk it and do it the mundane way.

While Mom and Aunt Hyacinth were my generation’s primary teachers, Great-Uncle Hare and Dad joint-taught a class about architecture.

Archeologist/architect Great-Uncle Hare made sure we knew how to identify the classic styles as well as the obscure—which was how I knew a fairy mound when I saw one.

Tactician/tracker Dad taught the best ways of ingress and egress and all the prime areas to set ambushes or to expect them.

It was from this education that I knew I had to head directly across the courtyard to find a foyer similar to the one Ossian had glamoured in his castle version of the Redbud courthouse.

There would be hallways and stairways, one of them leading to the southeast tower.

Slashing with Faebane, I cleared a path of shadows.

I had to pause after every cut for the butterflies and petals to dissipate, and to make sure there wasn’t another shadow lurking directly behind it, being all sneaky like.

Squinting into the gloom of the colonnade, I slashed a wide arc to clear what I couldn’t see.

Inside the castle, I’d have to risk some firelight.

I ventured into the darkness cautiously.

There was no sparkle vision to be had here—Elfame was cut off from this place.

There were twisting shadows everywhere; I could hear the whispers of their silken bodies dancing in the air.

Maybe they really were whispering. This next patch I cleared dissolved with an audible sigh, the same kind you utter after setting something heavy down after carrying it for a long time. I held my breath and listened, unsure.

It was time to risk a little more magic.

Fire bloomed in my palm—sorry, Emmett, I hadn’t mastered true light yet—and the shadows went wild.

They danced and thrashed, always rooted.

Never free until they received Faebane’s kiss.

I dimmed the light and panned to the right.

My hope for a quick in-and-out of the cursed castle popped like a child’s party balloon as I glimpsed the stairwell.

“Sawyer? The southwest stairs are blocked. Some kind of collapse. Is there another access to the southeast tower further ahead? I’m on the east side of the courtyard, facing the sea.”

“Hold on.” A moment later: “Kian says to keep your heading. There will be a throne room overlooking the sea and access to the second floor on either end. Take the stairs on the right.”

“Thanks, kitty.”

“What’s it like there?” His physical shiver manifested in the bond like the trail of icy fingers along my spine.

“Cold and creepy and dark. Twisting shadows everywhere. They’re blocking out the sun, but I can still see. Except not in the hallways. I’m blind here.”

“So use your fire.”

“I am, smarty pants, but I can’t use a lot. Kian was right that they’re attracted to magic. While they haven’t chased me down, they can certainly flail around. And he told me not to touch them.”

Pausing, I switched tactics as an idea occurred to me. The shadows bent towards my magic. What if instead of calling fire to my hand, I called it to the sword? Then anything freaking out would attack the iron instead of me.

I cackled at my own cleverness. Or that could’ve been my nerves manifesting again.

The technique wasn’t too dissimilar than infusing the camp skillet with heat, and soon soft honeyed light rippled down the length of the iron sword. Just as I suspected, the shadows bent towards the magic and were immediately severed. I pushed forward with more confidence.

“Wait a minute,” Sawyer began slowly. “If the shadows are everywhere, how are you getting around them without touching them? You, uh, aren’t exactly slinky.”

I sliced through another cluster of shadows with an indignant squawk. “Did you just call me fat?”

“No! You’re, oh flea bites, what did Ame say? Curvy. Right, that’s the one.”

“Nice save.”

More butterflies, more petals. More whispers and sighs. I swore I could hear some music now, even the faint cry of a wailing child. Eerie chills shivered up and down my body just as the magic flame rippled along Faebane. Despite the fire, the blade was growing rather cool in my hand.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Meadow,” Sawyer said. “Are you immune as Kian and Shannon think you are?”

“Maybe?”

“What?”

“I said what I said.”

Indignation rippled down the bond. “You’re being evasive!” I could practically feel him stomping his foot. “That’s twice already. Meadow Hawthorne, I am your familiar! You will tell me at once.”

Just as I was about to reply, my cat added, “And don’t you dare say ‘I’ll tell you later.’ I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

With a frustrated huff, I considered breaking Thistle’s confidence as I sliced through the next shadow. Distracted by the ever-increasing music and wails, I missed the little gray shadow with the translucent edges.

“Gah!”

I pivoted quickly to the right, slashing, and stumbled over a section of broken wall.

I barely managed to keep my balance, barely managed to suppress my magic oak tree that wanted to manifest a gust of wind to buffet my fall.

Unable to stop my forward momentum, I tripped over yet more bricks and lumps of masonry.

I slashed wildly with Faebane to clear a path before I face-planted.

I could heal a broken nose but maybe not what the Blight would do to me if it touched me.

The shadows ripped away with a flutter of butterfly wings and suddenly there was the bright afternoon light reflecting off the blue sea. And no floor. The throne room had crumbled away.

“Thistle th?—”

The stones loosened beneath my feet and I tumbled over the cliffside to the pounding surf a hundred feet below.