Page 78 of Shadowed Fate

Heat blooms beneath me. I look down.

Flames lick at my legs, which are constrained to my chair like some sort of sick magic trick. My heart hammers against my ribs as I try to process what's happening.

"Laria, stop this," I hiss, fighting to keep my voice steady.

She laughs, the sound sharp and cruel.

The heat intensifies, and I can't help the whimper that escapes me.

"Help!" I try to shout, but it comes out as a choked whisper.

Nobody turns. Nobody notices.

The flames lick at my shoes, singeing the hem of my pants. I frantically scan the auditorium. My gaze lands on Lochan, but he's fixated on the Council members, oblivious to my predicament.

"Getting a little warm, Brigid?" Laria taunts.

I clench my jaw, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response. The fire's contained, but for how long? My skin tingles with rising heat and barely contained panic.

"What's wrong? Shadow bitch can't handle a little flame?"

Nester sits motionless beside me, a puppet in Laria's sick game. I want to scream at him, shake him out of this trance, but I'm paralyzed.

"Please," I whisper, not sure who I'm begging—Laria, the universe, or my own stubborn magic.

And then, something inside me breaks.

Darkness erupts from my body, extinguishing the flames and shattering the magic binding me to the chair. I gasp, stumbling to my feet as inky tendrils of shadow whip around me, growing larger and more volatile with each passing second.

My relief is short-lived as I realize I can't control it. The shadows expand, racing across the floor and up the walls, plunging the auditorium into an unnatural twilight. Panicked screams erupt all around me.

Chairs topple, and bodies collide in the frenzied rush to escape. The shadows lash out, perceiving threats everywhere.

A tendril snakes towards a Council member, one of the ones who interrogated me. But I can't stop it. The magic has a mind of its own now, fueled by years of pent-up rage and pain.

You can control this. You have to!

But I can't. The shadows swirl faster, a maelstrom of darkness with me at its eye. I see glimpses of terrified faces as the storm rages. Laria cowers beneath a row of seats.

"Make it stop," I plead, though I'm not sure anyone can hear me over the howling tempest of shadow magic.

The chaos swirls around me, a mass of darkness and terror. My legs give out and I sink to my knees. I'm exactly what they all feared—a monster.

Just as the shadows feel like they’re going to consume me, I feel it. A tendril of darkness sliding back towards me, then another. The realization hits like a punch to the gut.

It’s my pain. My emotions.

I force myself to take a deep breath, then another. Gradually, the frenzied swirling of shadows slows. As my racing heart steadies, more tendrils return, coiling around me.

"Okay," I mutter. "Okay, we can do this."

I close my eyes, focusing on calm, like Tiernan taught me. The howling wind dies down to a breeze, and then everything is still.

When I open my eyes again, the storm has dissipated. Shadows retreat to their usual places, leaving stunned silence in their wake.

On stage, the Council members gape at me. Every eye in the room is fixed on me with a mix of horror and fascination. I spot Laria, her perfect face twisted in revulsion.

I bolt for the exit, shoving past frozen bodies. As I near the door, I see him. Lochan. That smug bastard's face is a perfect mask of vindication.

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