Page 70 of Claim the Light
“Well, then,” I say, “I must havefalleninto this realm, just like my friend fell into the dark magic keeper’s realm when she—”
“Oh, no, that was quite different.” The keeper shakes her head, her next words proving she knows exactly what I’m talking about. “Asper Ashen-Varr leaped into the dark keeper’s realm through an open door that was already well-known to the angels—who, by the way, were complicit in that door’s creation and did nothing to stop it from forming.”
Her voice becomes a snarl as she speaks of the angels, but her expression becomes more neutral as she continues. “You, on the other hand, have discovered new cracks and slipped through them like an unstoppable ray of light.”
The bloody sap from the silver flower’s stem continues to drip onto the ground and I’m shaken when I follow its path down to what I thought was grass.
In the moonlight, the earth gleams, but now that I peer closer, I realize I’m standing, not on soil, but on a substance that is white and powdery.
“White ash,” the keeper of old magic says. “It’s what happens when an environment burns with uncontrolled magic for so long that dark ash turns white.” The corners of her mouth tug down. “It begins to resemble powdered bones. It’s the consequence of magic that is left unclaimed and untethered. I keep my garden this way to remind me of what will happen if I ever fail in my task.” Her voice becomes hard. “We, the keepers, have sacrificed everything to ensure that the ground never turns to white ash again.”
“It happened before?” I ask, my eyes wide.
“Many eons ago. In the time when monsters rose from the very soil beneath our feet.”
With a sudden movement and an equally abrupt change of subject, she holds out the silver flower to me. “Will you take this?”
It feels like a loaded question and I hesitate, studying her and trying to discern her motives.
Her expression is inscrutable, but her white eyes narrow when I don’t move.
She prompts me with, “Consider it a gift.”
Warily, I lift my hand, my fingertips brushing the edge of the delicate flower.
As soon as I make contact, heat flares in my palm and a flash of light travels from the tips of my fingers across the petals.
The keeper’s eyes brighten and a gasp passes her lips. “Oh! Sothatis how you crept in here.”
I stare at her, confused by her declaration.
“What are you saying?” I demand to know.
Frustratingly, she takes a quick step back from me, the flower still clasped between her fingertips, her form flickering and gleaming. “But of course, there can be no death without…life.”
Her smile fades. “Go now, Sophia Dragon, before I give in to the temptation to claim your magic. Even though I know it would be futile—and the keeper of light magic may rage in her realm—I’m not immune to trying.”
I take a hasty step backward. My heel bumps against the cabin’s bottom step. The whole time we were talking, I felt like I was much farther inside the garden but I barely moved.
I spin to the steps and the cabin.
A sudden bright gleam of light at the corner of my eye tells me the keeper of old magic didn’t keep her distance when I turned my back to her.
Her voice sounds at my ear and sends a shiver down my spine.
“I won’t have to wait long for your mate’s power,” she whispers. “It will be mine very soon.”
A shock of anger burns through me.
I twist back to her. “What do you mean,soon?”
But my foot has already ascended onto the first step and her garden is gone.
I’m left staring at the quiet forest.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
The keepers can only tether magic from a supernatural who has died. If the keeper of old magic is claiming she’ll have Micah’s magic soon…
