“You were light.”
Her light is gone. She gave it all to Kenrik. My darkness takes up the vacant space.
I am winning, my darkness pushing its way into her body, its tentacles wrapping her core.
I whisper in her ear while stroking her head. “It will be over quickly, my love, and we’ll be united forever. I’ve used the darkness for hundreds of years.” I speak in a reverent hush. “It’s magnificent. Darkness is greater than light. You will come to know of its glory—its power to create in a way the Master of Light can’t.”
“Please don’t do this,” she mumbles.
“I must, dearest. I must.” I continue my soothing ministrations as I run my fingers over her hair.
A sadistic glee envelopes me. She will finally be like me. She will know who I really am. We will be united in our torment. Our anguish.
Our child’s light flares in her womb.
I gasp.
Our child. Our child still holds light. He or she reaches outward, its light threading into Niawen’s heart-center where my darkness takes hold.
No.
And yet I can’t stop it. I can’t endanger my child to stop him or her from feeding Niawen light.
The pureness of the light.
My darkness pushes against it.
Let me have her!
I am losing her, losing my grip on her soul.
I cry out in my heart. I cannot fight this. Niawen.
Kenrik’s voice echoes through the cell. He calls to Niawen.
Tears stream my cheeks.
Our child is defeating me. The child is strong. I retreat, fearful our battle within Niawen is too much for her body.
Which has gone slack.
I shake her. “Niawen!”
Kenrik’s voice booms behind me. “NIAWEN!”
She jolts at the same time Kenrik launches to his feet.
I swear softly, in disbelief. Her light healed him astonishingly fast.
He storms across the room and flings me from Niawen. I hit the far wall. Ribs crack. Pain rips through me.
“I am going to give you a piece of your own medicine, you sick freak,” the prince says.
I’m struck by how Kenrik’s face looks whole. How it’s not mashed and misshapen from my torture.
Still covered in dried blood though.
My legs snap.