Page 101 of The Starlight Savior

“The portal mirror should be in the library. If you go up the stairs, take a right, and another right, you should find it. If I’m wrong, just search the eastern wing.”

“You’re not coming with?” Saige croaked.

“I’ve got that to take care of.” Conor pointed to the creature still lurking in the yard. “The home will protect you from the mist, but keep your mask on just in case.”

“How am I supposed to open the portal?”

“You’ve watched me do it twice.” His hand gripped Saige’s wrist, squeezing tightly with a thumb running over her skin. “Just remember the steps. The blood on the edge, setting the intention of returning to Athalos, and the magic that infuses with the portal’s mirror. We don’t even need to return to the castle. Anywhere in or around Athalos will do.”

“You can’t stay here.” Saige rushed into Conor’s body, bringing her head close to his chest. Looking up, she gently placed her hands over his cheeks.

He pulled back suddenly. “I don’t plan to,” he said with urgency, “but it’ll be incredibly difficult for both of us to open the portal if that thing is hunting the whole time. I need to kill it. With the wards down, it can get in too.”

“So you’ll come back to me?”

“Always.”

Saige could only nod before turning away and stepping into the home, beyond the protection of Conor’s magic. She didn’t allow herself time to think as she heard the moan of the creature behind her. She only ran through the manor, up the stairs, to the right, another right.

Wrong door.

Okay, turn back. Search the eastern wing.

Her breath was heavy as she opened door after door, searching for a room with endless books, trinkets, and a magical mirror that would be their saving grace.

Finally, the last door she opened was the library.

Fighting the urge to look through every book possible, she found the mirror on display in the middle of the library. Saige stepped onto a marble platform, running a finger over the silver edges. Closing her eyes, she imagined Conor activating the portal. It had everything to do with blood. The ancient magic needed to take from her. Use raw power to activate it.

She pricked her thumb against the tip of the silver. All of the mirrors had the same forged edges with symbols and swirls. Blood oozed from her finger. Trailing it along the edge, she allowed it to drip and fill up every nook. It flowed faster than any wound she had experienced. Her head was dizzy as she watched, forcing herself to keep her ears trained on the exit beyond.

Something shifted in her chest. The mirror was pulsing under her touch, edges coated in crimson. She took a step off the marble platform, stumbling onto the rugged floor. The thought of Athalos swarmed her mind. The dungeons below the castle housing a portal waiting for their return.

“Your intentions must mean something. Magic is driven off emotion, obeying the strongest, yet most controlled,” Conor reminded her once she’d agreed to opening the portal. So her mind drifted through her memories in Athalos.

Most of her time was spent studying and training, but there were little glimmers scattered throughout.

Drinking ale with Niana in the capital square. Dancing alongside strangers, not worrying if she touched them. Exploring her father’s quarters with Eva. Walking with Conor in the gardens.

Her eyes flared open, bright with hope and magic. She held her palms once again, but this time it was all up to her. Conor was nowhere in sight, but he assured her he would feel when the portal was open.

Magic flowed from her palms and into the glass of the mirror. It glimmered like stars, sparking across the smooth surface, lighting up the dim library. She allowed her thoughts to wander through her memories, demanding her magic to open, obey, transport. Niana once said magic preferred to be bossed around. Without any direction, it ran freely.

Open. Obey. Transport.

She thought it over and over, heart thundering in her chest. The mirror began to shift and swirl. Visions flowed before her, replacing her frazzled reflection. Peaks of trees. Snow-crested mountains. Water dripping in mossy dungeons.

Her head spun as she stumbled back, staring at the glorious sight of the magic-infused portal before her. Conor still hadn’t arrived yet, and he needed to hurry. Saige didn’t know how long she could keep it open, but she assumed not long.

He swore he’d come back to her.

Always.

Her chest clenched at his tender look when he spoke to her. If she had to walk through this portal alone, leaving him among twisted creatures, she wouldn’t know what to do. Her hand tremored, white light sputtering and then flowing back to the natural stream. She needed to keep herself distracted.

Closing her eyes, she could only think of Conor. When had she begun to care for him like this? The thought of not seeing him again tugged at her. It was different from the slow and pining longing she had once felt for Hadeon. He had been inaccessible. The moment she would’ve shone too bright, she knew he would’ve sent her to the chopping block. But Conor was all encompassing. Too accessible. Always there when she turned a corner, greedily willing to help her through any obstacle that came forth. She was grateful for it, she realized.

Thundering steps quickened behind her. If she turned around, she’d lose focus on the portal. The images on the mirror were beginning to distort and blend together with no clear direction. Her magic was dwindling away. Inching closer and closer to extinguishing.