Page 132 of Claim the Light
All of them ram into my back and then—
Fuck!
I’m falling through air that feels icy and weirdly welcoming at the same time and then darkness engulfs me once again.
Fucking beautiful darkness.
I rip off the covering over my eyes but keep hold of it because there’s no way I’m letting go of a piece of my mother.
My fall slows and I land gently on a gleaming, marble floor.
The inky-black surface extends far into the distance in every direction—left, right, and up, into a nothingness that is so vast, I can’t quantify it.
I’m not sure where the staircase disappeared to because it didn’t feel like I traveled that far, but here I am, surrounded by night.
Is this the world?
I quickly dismiss that possibility. There is no blue sky, no grass, no buildings.
Oh, and there are also no walls.
In the next moment, the panthers land behind me, but all I care about right now is the endless space in front of me.
“This is freedom,” I whisper, stepping across the marble floor, which cools the bare soles of my feet, a soothing sensation.
My walk becomes a run and then I’m racing as fast as I can across the darkness, taking deep breaths, inhaling the glimmering energy in the air.
An energy that reeks of dark magic.
Mymagic.
The essence of my heart.
The rapid beat of paws tells me the panthers are close behind, but it’s when their footfalls are joined by another sound that I slow and stop, crouching to the floor and listening intently.
In the distance is a swishing noise and it’s coming closer.
Rising to my feet, I peer into the darkness, finally making out the shape of a tall figure moving toward me. The newcomer appears to be male, judging by the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips and waist, although his entire frame is thin. A long, black robe rests around his shoulders and it must be the source of the swishing sound because it’s dragging across the marble floor.
He seems to bring the darkness with him and a thrill passes down my spine.
Then I make out the shape of the black crown resting around his eyes, obscuring the upper half of his face, its spokes rising up over his forehead and past the top of his head.
My heart leaps at the sight of it.
The immense power in the crown calls to me like food to my starving stomach.
The angry press of the man’s lips does nothing to dissuade me from my need to connect with that crown.
Without thinking, I lift my hand, the one gripping the loose material of my mom’s skirt, and I reach toward him.
He draws to a rapid stop at my gesture.
If only I could see his eyes; I’m sure he’d be eyeing me cautiously now.
“Keeper of dark magic,” I say, greeting him. “I never dreamed I’d meet you.”
His lips part, as if I’ve surprised him. His voice is like a wraith’s, a shocked whisper. “You know what I am?”
