Page 17 of Fading Sun

“My visions led me to Blaze, and to helping him find the quill,” she says, stronger now. “Plus, the keeper of the quill gave us a message. A spell. One designed to extract and infuse.”

Right after she says it, a ray of sunlight breaks through the clouds. It warms me, reminding me of the magic I’ve lost, and of the poison eating away at my light, threatening to consume it until it’s extinguished completely.

I’m running out of time.

Blaze and his Crimson Quill might be the only way for me to get my magic back.

“Do it.” I hold out my arm out and pull up my sleeve, baring my skin to him.

Skin that’s noticeably paler than ever.

Damien doesn’t react. Not even a flinch. All he does is reach into his jacket pocket and pull out the Astral Compass.

“We’re going to need this,” he says simply.

I want to scream at him. Shake him to snap him back into focus, even if that means he’ll yell at me for coming up to the roof to try harnessing my magic after he insisted I take the day off.

I do none of those things.

“You’re okay with me saying yes to this?” I ask instead. “You don’t want me to think about it more?”

“You’ve made it clear these past few weeks that you’re going to do what you want, when you want, whether I think it’s a good idea or not,” he says. “Plus, we need that potion out of you. Every day it’s still there makes you weaker, and therefore, a liability to the clan. Best to get it over with now instead of prolonging it further.”

His words stun me into silence.

Specifically, the part where he implied that my existence is putting everyone at risk.

Because he’s right. He knows it, I know it, Morgan knows it, and even Blaze seems to know it.

“Agreed,” I say, and unable to look at Damien for a second longer, I return my focus to Blaze. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just hold onto the compass, breathe through it, and try not to move,” he says, and I frown, since I was expecting something more complicated than that.

Something not as foreboding.

“It might hurt a bit,” Morgan adds.

“Yeah,” I say. “I got that.”

Damien holds the compass out to me.

I take it from him, trying to “accidentally” brush my fingers against his as I do.

He’s faster than me, pulling back before I have a chance.

You’d think that touching me would give him a disease that’s fatal to vampires.

He refuses to look at me. He won’t open the duskberry bond, either.

So, I focus on the compass. It’s easy to do, because it’s warm and light, like magic itself.

But the moment it settles into my palm, the amethyst dims. Like my touch is making it sad.

First, the token was mad at me for shoving it into a drawer. Now, the compass is upset because I’m about to infuse it with a dark potion.

I’ve got to snap out of it and stop feeling bad for inanimate objects.

“Ready?” Blaze asks, his dagger out, poised above his palm.

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