Page 107 of Claim the Light
He digs in his heels, snarling back at me. “You can’t kill me. Not while you also live. I proved it.”
“True,” I say, taking a quick glance at the cloak on the floor, which now rests at my feet. “I can’t kill you, but I can give you what you want. All the dark magic you could possibly crave. For eternity.”
I crouch and pick up the keeper’s black cloak from the ground.
Nowthisis not an inanimate object.
The power in this cloak is ancient, visceral, and filled with pain and sacrifice, the kind of magic that should never be messed with.
“This cloak belonged to a powerful creature of dark magic,” I say. “It’s my gift to you, Tyler, for helping me see what I am.”
His forehead creases and he hesitates, clearly thrown by my offer.
I’m sure he won’t remain quiet for long, so I glide up to him quickly, sweetness dripping from my tongue. “A powerful cloak for a powerful dragon.”
I press the material to his chest with one hand and, at the same time, brush the fingertips of my free hand across his heart.
It’s enough for my will to take effect.
With a single thought, I remove his memories of me and of who he used to be, leaving his mind empty of attachments.
But I refuse to shield him from the pain I’m certain he’s about to feel.
Of its own accord, the cloak slips around his neck and shoulders, attaching itself to his body.
His eyes widen and a scream leaves his lips as the material settles over his wings, forcing them inward and compressing them against his sides. Every speck of ash and dust that was covering his body sucks inward, thumping audibly against his chest.
His body seems to implode for a moment and then his figure stabilizes, now tall and thin and hardly there.
His scream fades and, when he falls silent, a band of dark light appears around his eyes. A blindfold that will keep him from seeking a life beyond his new purpose. It isn’t a crown as such, but it will hold all of the dark magic it needs to hold, along with every other part of Tyler’s body.
“Well, hello there, new keeper of dark magic,” I say.
A shudder passes through him, and then he blinks at me, as if he’s trying to place me.
His voice echoes, wraith-like and perplexed. “You should not be here, dragon. You are not dead.”
“No, I’m not,” I whisper, stepping away from him. “I’m very much alive.”
With a single thought, I will myself into the shape of a dragonfly, a large, golden one. My dress floats to the floor now that my form is smaller, but I give myself a pair of clawed feet and scoop up the material with them.
Then I dart upward through the darkness to the future that’s waiting for me.
* * *
I shoot upward into a strange calm.
The fight on the rooftop I left behind looks like it must have spilled across multiple roofs in the time that I was gone.
Dark scorch marks sear the surfaces around me, a sign of the savage burn of dragon’s flame.
Golden bullets circle the air nearby. In the center of the cage the bullets create, Niah stands with two other Scorn dragons. On the rooftop behind them, the remaining Scorn are gathered in a tight circle, all of them on their knees. Another circle of golden bullets zips around them, clearly forcing them to stay where they are.
Gisela stands beside the first group, her hands outstretched, and I sense the energy streaming between her and the bullets, which are keeping Niah from making a move.
Dane stands near the second group, his hands also outstretched.
I’m not surprised to see the rest of my family dispersed around the two groups of captives. Lana and Callan stand near Gisela, while Beatrix, Felix, Isaac, and Lana’s mother, Melisma, stand with Dane.
