Page 11 of Fading Sun

His name is like starless silk, wrapping around my mind and snaking its way to my heart. And despite knowing it’ll be for the best, I don’t want to cut it into pieces and tear it to shreds.

I don’t want to throw his token into the river—into the cold, dark depths where it belongs.

Cassandra stares out at the water, not saying a word. She’s normally so strong and focused, and this far-off version of her makes me feel uneasy, to say the least.

She’s never going to be the same again.

After tonight, I’m not sure any of us will be the same again. Not her, not Abigail, not Damien, and certainly not me.

I don’t know what to say to her, so I remain silent, gazing out at the city lights in the distance. It’s strange how beautiful the skyline looks when you’re standing at the edge of it. Especially knowing that the moment you’re in back the thick of it, everything will return to chaos and danger.

Which has been the definition of my life recently.

The scariest part is that I don’t think it’ll ever stop. But, for this short moment, I’m frozen in time, knowing that every decision I make has the power to change the world as we know it.

It’s a lot of pressure to put on a single person.

Too much.

Then, I hear it. The sound of footsteps, fast and decisive, approaching from the entrance of Little Island.

Cassandra tenses, reaching for her sword. But when Damien comes into view, she relaxes. Slightly.

I don’t.

Because he moves with a stiffness that’s unnatural for him, his usual grace replaced with something sharper, more rigid. He’s a calculating predator of the night, more dangerous than even the Shadow Lord.

Astrophel, my heart reminds me.

I say nothing as Damien approaches, every nerve in my body on edge as I take in the sight of him. His blond hair is tousled, and his suit is wrinkled, with a few smudges on it.

Dark red smudges.

Blood.

But, most disturbingly, his eyes are stone cold. Like ice that’s never going to thaw.

This is not the same Damien who said goodbye to me earlier tonight at the Fairmont.

Needing to understand what he’s feeling, I open the duskberry bond between us.

If he senses my emotions, he doesn’t show it. And, unsurprisingly given his current demeanor, he doesn’t open his connection to me.

Taking the hint, I close my side of the bond.

“Amber,” he says my name like a command, and my body straightens instinctively.

The way he’s looking at me now… it’s empty. As if he’s looking at a stranger.

Ice runs through me at the hollowness of his gaze.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” I say quickly, even though such a simple apology is far from enough.

His jaw tightens, and I can tell he agrees.

Then, his gaze flickers to the pile of ash in the center of the garden.

“Lucas,” I tell him, motioning to his remains. “He…”

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