Page 56 of Haunted

I grip the parapet. The light is strong. Not the light of a mortal. Not even the light of a half-emrys.

It is far stronger.

My breath catches as the light calls to me. A light that is not callous or cruel, because surely it is the light of an emrys, a pure emrys, because nothing in this world, to my knowledge, could possess light so brightly.

I’m cautious and immediately whisper a cloaking spell that conceals my light. There is only one emrys on Bryn. One in the entire world. Mother Siana.

This is not her light. I know her light.

So who is this beacon that gives my heart hope?

Another immortal on this side of the Great Divide. Another immortal with whom I can spend eternity. Someone I will not have to watch die.

I don’t have to be alone.

As I study the light, it moves. Almost directly eastward. I stare all night, eventually lying on the citadel’s wall, with my eyes closed, doing nothing but marking the light’s path.

I must learn whom this light belongs to.

42

I spend days in my chamber studying enchantments. Lord Rheinallt left me a study filled with books. My favorites I’ve had to replace over the years before they’ve crumbled to dust. But I’ve also added to the library. Much to my delight, spells, potions, and magic exist in this part of the world as well as where I came from. Those without the ability to harness internal energy, as the half-emrys can, have ways of harnessing magic that comes from the earth.

I am not above evolving my skills. I learn from them.

After several days, I come across a spell that lets me see through the eyes of an animal. When my sight possesses a creature, it’s called a familiar, and it bows to my will.

I grow in excitement. I have a way to learn about the light that plagues my nights.

For it is still there, that bright beacon, taunting me.

I do not know from whence it came or to whom it belongs. Man or woman.

I am eager to learn either way.

Learning to control my familiar takes practice and great strength. When I’m in the eyes of my familiar, my physical self is vulnerable. So I lock myself in a chamber before I say the incantation to take possession of the familiar I’ve chosen, Albus, a raven.

I make the mistake of selecting Albus from a raven that nests near the citadel. So I fly leagues to the south. It takes all night. I’m exhausted. Albus’s energy is draining. But I’m determined, and long after I’ve collapsed onto the floor do I hold Albus in my power, until he lands on the palace in Talfryn, the realm to my south.

The light is here, but I must sleep.

The wait is torture.

Our eyes close. Albus tucks his head under his wings and nods off. I don’t release his hold while I slumber on the cold stone of the tower I’m locked in.

In the morning, I finally see the source of my light.

I’m giddy with excitement.

A woman, with ashy waves and green eyes. My heart pulses so rapidly I’m afraid the little raven will keel over.

The woman is beautiful.

She sits at breakfast. Two other noble women are with her. Albus shifts on the branch of the privet shrub he’s hiding in. A few yards away, two young men play a game on the lawn with a small child.

I squint, narrowing my eyes. I have not met King Sieffre or the royal family, but my ambassadors have brought back sketches of them. I recognize the crown prince and his brother.

My lady of light gasps and glances over her shoulder at the princes. Something has upset her. “Your Highness!” She pauses. “Prince Kelyn!” She rises swiftly to her feet and starts across the lawn. As my lady turns, her green eyes flash before Albus loses sight of them.

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