Page 19 of Fading Sun

Three words glow on my skin.

Extraho et infundo.

Extract and infuse.

The words glow brighter, and the pressure in my arm builds. Then, an electric shock, starting at the word inked on my skin and exploding out toward the compass.

I can barely see, barely breathe, barely think. It’s like Blaze’s blood magic is ripping apart my DNA, and all I feel is pain.

What if this is a trick? What if Blaze isn’t here to help me? What if he’s here to kill me?

Because that’s what it feels like this spell is doing. Destroying me inch by inch, until it burns so hot that I’ll turn into a pile of ash, like Lucas after he was killed by the shadow souls.

With that thought, blinding light flashes across my eyes, and I cry out, falling back onto the ground.

But my head doesn’t smack onto the concrete. Because suddenly, big, strong arms are wrapped around me, propping me up.

Damien.

And, amazingly, my body warms with something I worried I’d never feel again.

Sun magic.

It floods through me, renewed, no longer hidden behind the potion’s filmy barrier. Like it was desperate to be free.

Damien grimaces, and I realize—my magic is heating up my skin.

Vampires are already more sensitive to the sunlight than any other supernatural. Now, my light is burning him.

And he’s holding on anyway.

“Sorry,” I say, reluctantly pushing myself out of his embrace.

“No problem.” His tone is distant and professional, and it’s like a punch to my gut. “How do you feel?”

Like I was just stoned to death, carved into pieces, and dragged through the fiery pits of Hell.

“All good,” I say instead, since technically, right now, it’s true.

The pain disappeared the moment the potion went into the compass. My magic is back. So, I assume the spell worked.

Finally able to breathe again, I reach for the compass I dropped on the ground.

I pause halfway there.

Because the words for the spell aren’t glowing anymore. Instead, they’re inked on my forearm in dark red blood.

I feel deep in my soul that they’re going to be part of me permanently, etched into the core of my being until the end of time.

“Matching tattoos.” Morgan pulls up her sleeve to reveal her forearm, which also has blood-red letters inked into it. “Sort of.”

Her tattoo may be made of the same color ink, but the word is different from mine.

Sanare.

“What happened?” I ask, although I find myself looking to Blaze instead of Morgan, since he’s likely the one who did it to her.

“We ran into a roadblock on our quest for the quill,” he says simply. “A monster. It almost killed her. So, I used a spell to heal her.”

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