Page 136 of Last Gift: Supernatural Battle

Will I accept the authority? I directed magic into the staves, picturing each of the twenty small pieces of wood within the leather pouch. Will I accept the authority?

“Open the pouch,” Ty directed. “Push more magic into the staves until you recognize the moment is here to find your answer.”

I pulsed divination magic into the pouch, loosening the tie. My eyes were closed, and I poured more and more magic into the staves. When I was nearly ready to crack an eyelid and ask if I was doing this thing wrong, I felt a switch.

A vibrating hum filled my ears. My fingertips warmed. A heat built in the pouch in my hands.

The answer wanted out.

I held my magic and intent steady—something I knew from practice in my other infinities. Then I scattered the staves.

Ty gasped.

I pulled back my magic and opened my eyes.

The twenty staves were smoldering and smoking. A sigh escaped me. They’d also turned black and twisted. Fuck. “Here I was thinking that I may just need to add a cushion to it.”

Ty was horrified as he gaped at the staves.

“What does it mean?” I dared to ask. I could hardly not. The magus pretending not to watch before were craning to see the charred remains.

Though I already understood what happened somehow. My fate can’t be contained in these staves. The sudden thought belonged to my demon. I wavered on my beanbag, shaking my head a few times. My demon uncurled from my chest to stretch throughout my body.

I gasped as my head and mind squeezed, and a torrent of information and images flooded in. The information was distant and inaccessible in a strange way—like an extra wing had been built in a library, but the books could only be found as the right question or situation arose. The books in that library were filled with everything known by my demon.

We’d merged further?

The question no sooner crossed my mind than the answer arrived from my new library. We’d merged after the conversation with Spyne—the conversation where I’d realized that who and what I was had nothing to do with my fears of the coven’s future. The one where I’d relieved myself of the guilt plaguing me since discovering what I was.

My breaths came quick.

“High Esteemed?”

I blinked across at the divination mentor. Twenty charred staves smoked on the table before me. Ty was torn between concern, horror, and shock. Whispers filled the center.

What a time to assimilate more deeply with my demon.

I tried to get a grip. “Sir, what does it mean?”

“Darkness,” Ty whispered.

He had a deep voice that carried, and I appreciated that he’d attempted to quieten it on my behalf. The closest to us still overheard, and his earlier gasp was replicated and spread through the center.

The mentor lowered his voice further. “The staves do not accept your nature.”

“My gut tells me that the staves can’t hold my fate,” I answered as calmly as possible.

I’d perhaps really, really reinforced the dark magic vibe just now. Fuck.

Ty was shaking his head.

“High Esteemed?” Corey interrupted. “You’re needed in the advisory chamber.”

I glanced up. I wasn’t needed anywhere. Corey was doing me a solid.

Rising, I glanced at Ty, then banished the staves. “I’ll think on your words, sir. Thank you for the lesson.”

What else was a gal to say when her insides were just put on display?

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