Page 129 of Shades of Silver City

Listen to your intuition. What does it say?

“It’s untrustworthy,” I mutter. “It wants more—it craves death.”

Not your power—your intuition, Scathe amends.

Closing my eyes and leaning against the brick wall in the alley, I ignore the steady buzz of power and try to tap into my intuition.

Tasia is the first thing that comes to mind. I need her to be safe. Healthy. Happy.

Go to the bar, I command Scathe. Check on Tasia. Stay with her until I can find her.

There’s no way she’ll want to see me now. Plus, I don’t trust myself in this state. Not until I can relieve myself of Reed’s soul and subdue the ravenous beast within.

Scathe whines. I don’t—

Please, I say to him, squatting down to scratch his neck. His back foot thumps automatically in response as he leans into the scratches. He might be more intelligent than a typical dog, but he’s still a canine in many ways.

The mutt side-eyes me before relenting. Fine.

I take his helmet off, and he bolts away, around the corner and out of sight.

With that out of the way, I take my own helmet off.

“Okay, intuition, what do you say?”

When I first started learning about my power, I hadn’t met Godric yet. My ma and Sofia were both regular humans, so they couldn’t offer any insight. Things changed when Godric came into my life. Together, he and I discovered that being grounded in soil or around plants replenished our power, made us stronger.

In fact, it was the only way I knew to recharge…until now. Death makes me stronger than nature ever could.

Nature.

An idea forms, and I follow it. I felt pulled to my ma’s apartment for a reason, after all. Jogging deeper into the alley, I run my palm along the brick until I locate the secret door. Entering the space, I fly down the stairs until I’m in our underground greenhouse.

The place where Godric and I recharge if we can’t make it to Sweetcreek.

Something inside of me stirs. It rises higher, like bile, as if begging to come up and out of my mouth.

Then it stops.

It sinks back down into my bones.

It’s not enough.

I know what I have to do. I need to release the soul into nature, where it can rest. It needs freedom. Real nature. Beyond the city.

It needs the Wilds.

"Devoting one’s existence to faeology is inherently isolating. I am in a perpetual state of introspection, reflecting on the validity of my decisions, but the nuances of my research are apprehended by me alone.”

-Excerpt from the personal journal of Dr. Claude Foster, Director of Faeology at Mesmeric Labs

CHAPTER 31

FANTASIA

By the time I make it to The Rising Star, I’m drenched with sweat and panting for air. Before entering, I catch my breath and take a look around to ensure Archer didn’t follow me. The streets aren’t that busy at this time of day, with the bars getting ready to close. Scanning the few passersby, I find a variety of different hues but see no sign of gold.

My blood runs cold.

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