Page 45 of A Touch of Darkness

Before I left, Nicole and Rebecca had insisted on casting something for my protection as well as something to cloak my thoughts—just in case they are using some sort of dark magic to read my mind or pull things from me. I’m still confused by it all, and it’s as if when the girls speak of their own magic, which theydon’t do often, they’re talking in riddles. They did some sort of spell, they said, to shield me from harm and keep me tracked. I didn't entirely understand it, but I trusted them—at least, I trusted them enough to let them perform it. They said it would keep me safe from whatever dangers lurked in the shadows, but they also warned me it could be hard to notice when it was working. A safety net, they promised, even though it will be invisible.

And then there’s Isabel. Her visit a few days ago still lingers in my mind. When she left, she slipped her number into my hand, a gesture as cold as the air around us. When I decided, at the Raven’s Quill with the girls, that I would move forward with this, I reached out to her and started playing the part. She replied almost immediately, as if she had been waiting, just staring incessantly at her phone for me to finally contact her. She assured me, after giving me the address and directions—via phone call because she didn’t want to leave a paper trail—that they’d be waiting when I arrived.

The Solstice Society.

I reach for the rusted door handle, my hand trembling, the cold metal sending a shiver through me as I push it open. The creak of hinges echoes through the emptiness, and the moment I step inside, the air changes. It’s colder here—unnaturally so, like stepping into the bowels of the earth. Faint whispers seem to pulse through the walls, distant and unintelligible, adding to the already despotic atmosphere.

I blink to adjust my vision to the dim light, and as my eyes travel down the tapered corridor, I see flickering lanterns casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. What is it with all of these foreboding buildings?

The floor is wet, slick with something that glistens in the half-light, and I can hear the drip of water somewhere deeper in the labyrinth. The sounds reverberate, creating an almostspellbinding rhythm as I take one step after another, drawn forward by an invisible force.

Every instinct in me screams to leave. This is no place here for someone like me. But I can’t turn back—not now, not when Lara’s disappearance still haunts me. I have to keep moving forward. I have to get my sister back.

The corridor twists and bends, the walls narrowing as I go, until I reach a metal door. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen before, ancient, with strange symbols etched into its surface—the symbols from my vision of Lara suspended in time. I hesitate for just a moment, my breath caught in my throat. This is the entrance. The Solstice Society Headquarters, I assume. They’ve been waiting for me, I realize. I’m the one they’ve called to this forsaken place, to join their ranks, to be the centerpiece of whatever they’re planning.

Taking a deep breath, I push the door open.

The room beyond is vast—so vast it seems to stretch endlessly in all directions. High, arched ceilings disappear into shadow, and a low, unnatural hum fills the air, as though the very walls are alive, breathing in unison. The floor is made of smooth, black stone, and the only light comes from glowing, suspended orbs of blue fire that float eerily above, casting long, distorting shadows.

I stand in the center of what feels like an underground cathedral, the air thick with something—maybe magic? The room is circular, its perimeter lined with high stone pillars that rise into the darkness. At the far end of the room is a raised platform, a stone altar covered in deep crimson markings. The blood-red glow of the symbols pulses faintly, synchronized with the humming energy that fills the air.

I’m not alone.

Sylvie, keep going.

Lara’s words ring in my ears, and for a moment, I’m so thankful I’ve finally heard her again that tears spring to my eyes.

I’m with you.

But then, the moment of peace is shattered as I see them.

Figures in long, dark cloaks stand at various points around the chamber. They’re still, almost statuesque, watching me with eyes that gleam in the dim light. I can’t tell if they’re human or something else, their faces obscured by shadow, their bodies indistinct. But their presence is oppressive, like they’ve been here for lifetimes, waiting for something—or someone—to arrive. Fear spreads throughout my body, limb after limb turning cold as a dark sense of foreboding settles in my chest.

I do not want to be here.

As distracting and eerie as Blackthorne was—as Lucian can be—they are both ten times better than this.

A figure steps forward from the group, their silhouette sharp against the dim glow. Their movements are fluid, almost predatory, as if they’re accustomed to stalking through shadows. The person is draped in a dark cloak, the hood pulled low to conceal most of their face—but their eyes. My God, their eyes are green emeralds. They shine unnaturally bright, conjuring a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“Welcome, Sylvie,” a feminine voice says, her voice smooth, low, and cold. “I’m Amara, one of the administration leaders of Solstice. We’ve been expecting you.”

No fucking shit.

The words send a chill down my spine. I don’t know why, but I can feel that she’s not just speaking to me; she’s speaking through me, as if her words are already part of my own thoughts, a preordained script. It makes my stomach turn, but I keep my face expressionless, forcing my breath to remain steady.

“Well,” I say, my voice steady despite the rising dread in my chest. “I’m here.”

Her lips curl slightly, just enough to show a glimpse of something sharp beneath the hood, but her eyes remain unreadable. “Indeed. You’re here. But whether you remain here… depends on what you show us.”

She steps aside, revealing a stone circle in the center of the chamber. It’s intricately carved, the markings deep and dark, and I can feel a pulse of energy radiating from it. I can almost hear it in my bones—the call to power, to magic, to something more.

“Step into the circle,” the woman commands, her voice a quiet order, a summons I can’t refuse.

I hesitate, my heart pounding, but my feet carry me forward against my better judgment. The air grows colder with each step I take, and by the time I’m standing in the center of the circle, I feel as if I’m being drawn into the heart of something dark. The symbols etched into the stone beneath me seem to pulse with life, twisting and shifting in the flickering light, their meaning just beyond my grasp.

“Focus, Sylvie,” the woman says, her voice softer now, but still commanding. "You’re here for a reason. You believed in us enough to come here today. Now, show us what you can do."

I swallow, forcing my breath to remain even, my hands trembling slightly at my sides. They want to see my power. They want to see the magic that I’ve only just realized I even have. But I’m done fighting it. I can feel it moving within me, surging through my veins like wildfire, ready to be set free. Do I truly have more than visions? More than speaking to my potentially half-dead/half-alive sister in my mind?

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