Page 91 of What Is Dark Within Me

No. I still have him. And if I want to keep him, I’d better get on with whatever foolish plan I’ve concocted to send this thing back to the grave. Nic is all by himself out there.

Aleja gave herself a single moment to shuffle through the memories trapped inside of her; the first time Nicolas kissed her, pulling back with a nervous smile; late nights with Bonnie and Amicia and Orla, making each other laugh as the world around them burned; even Roland, long before she knew he’d betray them, a brash human boy with golden eyes who underwent the Trials knowing he’d become a Dark Saint during a time of all-out war.

She remembered screaming at Nicolas the night before she’d taken his punishment. And she remembered a golden ring box with a small keyhole. Somethingsoimportant was kept inside.

“Will I keep these memories when I go?”

No. I’m sorry. But just because you cannot see these moments doesn’t mean they didn’t happen. They still shape who you are.

“It was nice talking to you, Aleja. I’ll miss you.”

Don’t be ridiculous. You’re talking to yourself right now. And if you don’t cut it out, both of us will die.

If Aleja could have smiled, she would have.

Instead, she let her anger grow, and as it did, she felt others join her. Not just the women pushed into the well, but those who could remember a time before this messy void of voices speaking over each other—hundreds of minds, feeding a creature their thoughts, their pain, their sorrows.

“Help me,” she called to them. “I can free you.”

Then her anger washed away everything else, and this time, instead of trying to control it, Aleja let it explode.

Red.

Fire.

A shock of heat so intense that she would have chosen death over remaining in a body that must be so utterly destroyed.

The whispers became screams… then whispers again.

And there was light. Real light, not the flashes her eyes had produced when they couldn’t handle the sight of perfect darkness. As Aleja crumpled, she was surrounded by falling feathers, whose gentle touch sent her into agonizing pain.

* * *

“Oh, not this again,”she managed. “I’ve had enough of fainting and then you carting me off somewhere to recover. Give me a second. I’ll get up once I can feel my feet. Do I still have feet, by the way?”

“I see two and both are attached to your body, so that’s a start.” Nicolas crouched beside her, looking as though he was about to brush her hair away from her forehead, but then hesitated. “That was very risky, Aleja.”

“Yeah. Pretty cool though, you must admit.”

“Maybe from your perspective. I’m covered in Astraelis guts.”

This time, he touched her forehead and she didn’t pull away. She felt wet hair move across her face, hoping it was more sweat than blood, but if Nicolas’s appearance was anything to go by, that hope was unfounded.

The slash on his face was already healing, but there were several large tears in his clothes suggesting wounds that would have been fatal to a human. She found she wasn’t quite ready to think what would have happened if the Astraelis had devoured him—absorbed his full power, and all his knowledge of the Hiding Place. Especially that if the Astraelis wanted to mount a new attack, this would be the time.

But then again, Roland had told them already.

His thumb brushed something she hoped wasn’t Astraelis innards off her lower lip, then lingered. She was vaguely aware she’d seen something when the Astraelis swallowed her up; something more tangible than the memories it had shown her as she looked into the well. It was a loss she knew she should mourn, but it was hard to be anything other than exhausted.

“I’ve always thought you look beautiful when covered in blood. It matches your hair,” Nicolas said.

“Are you hitting on me now?”

“Sure, if you’re open to it.”

“The village is on fire, Nic.”

“That’s never stopped us before.”

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