Page 43 of The First Scar
The rest of Kaelen's pretty gifts could wait until I knew whether I'd survive the night.
I shouldered my pack when I noticed Serenya was walking toward me. And she'd brought reinforcements.
Dreadscale moved beside her like a shadow given form, those unsettling tattoos curling over his skin in the wavering light. His dark eyes found mine immediately.
"No," I said before either of them could speak.
Serenya ignored me. "You have to fuse both marks on this mission. The wards are dual-natured—Kaelen said so himself."
"I'll figure it out."
"Like you figured it out in the square?" Her voice dropped, urgent and fierce. "You did it once, Amaria. Once. By accident. And you nearly tore yourself apart."
Heat crawled up my neck. I was aware of the others pretending not to listen—Maxx's knife-tossing had slowed considerably, and Ryla's gaze had drifted our way.
"I don't need an audience for this," I hissed.
"Then stop making it a performance." Serenya stepped closer, her hand catching my arm. "This is his job, Amaria. He trains Shadowmarks. He's the only one here who understands what you're carrying. Just—" She exhaled, her frustration softening into a plea. "Just listen. Please. Three minutes. That's all I'm asking."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her I didn't need some stranger poking around in my power, my shadows, my shame.
But Serenya wasn't wrong. Three minutes of training or a suicide mission. Not much of a choice.
"Fine," I bit out. "Three minutes."
Dreadscale didn't gloat. Didn't even acknowledge the concession. He simply stepped forward, positioning himself an arm's length away, and spoke in that baritone voice that seemed to bypass my ears and settle directly into my bones.
"You treat them as two separate beasts," he said. "Light in one hand. Shadow in the other. Warring."
"Theyarewarring."
"Because you make them war." His head tilted, those mirror-dark eyes reflecting things I didn't want to see. "You fear the Shadow. Starve it. And when you reach for the Light, the Shadow thrashes against its chains. You are not fusing. You aresuppressing."
"So what do you suggest? Let the Shadow run loose and hope it doesn't eat me alive?"
"I suggest you stop thinking of them as enemies." He raised one hand, palm up. "Close your eyes."
"I don't—"
"Three heartbeats. That is all you need to hold. Three heartbeats of balance." His voice hardened, just a fraction. "Or walk into those wards half-armed and see what happens. Your choice."
I glared at him. He waited.
Serenya's hand squeezed my arm once, then let go.
I closed my eyes.
"Find the Light first," Dreadscale said. "Not as a weapon. As a breath. Let it fill you without reaching for it."
I inhaled slowly, searching for that familiar warmth within. The Unravel stirred—muffled by the amulet, but still there. Still mine. I let it rise, not grasping, just... allowing.
"Good. Now the Shadow."
My stomach clenched. The Shadow lived deeper, coiled in the dark spaces I tried not to visit. It tasted like grief and fear and every terrible thing I'd ever swallowed to survive.
"Don't fight it," Dreadscale murmured. "Don't pull. Just... open the door."
I didn't want to. Gods, I didn't want to.
