Page 79 of A Touch of Darkness

I was so worried when I stopped hearing from her. She mostly came to me when I was in trouble, and I suppose being at Lucian’s has kept me fairly safe. I’ve tried reaching out, but she hasn’t answered, and I have to admit, I was starting to doubt everything. But now, seeing her here, alive, breathing…it’s all that matters.

I run my hand over her forehead, trying to memorize the feel of her skin beneath my fingertips. "Please be real," I murmur, even though I know this moment is far too important to be a trick. I’ve been burned before, by shapeshifters and by the lies of the Society.

“Can someone make sure she’s real? I need proof,” I ask, voice wavering with the heat of the moment. “We’ve been through too much for this to be another game.”

Rebecca steps forward, kneeling next to me. Her fingers hover just over Lara’s skin, and her eyes glow faintly as she murmurs something under her breath. After a long, tense moment, she nods. “She's real, Sylvie. No illusions. This is Lara.”

I nod, relieved but not yet willing to let myself believe this is truly the end of the nightmare. Not until Lara wakes.

Rebecca and Nicole take Lara inside with the help of one of Lucian’s friends. We’ve already spoken of a plan for her—she’s going to rest in the room I was originally staying in, and the girls will stay with her until she fully wakes up.

I stand up and straighten my spine as Amara’s gaze flicks to me. “You’ve made your demands. Now, you will fulfill ours.”

I meet her cold stare and take a knife out of my pocket. “My blood. It’s the price for my sister’s life. Then we’re done.”

Her lips twist into a mock smile. “We will take what is owed.”

My breath hitches slightly as they begin preparing the ritual, the moment drawing nearer. I press the cool metal of the blade against my skin and slice down my forearm, allowing the blood to spill out in rivulets.

Amara moves toward me, and I reach my hand just over the protection threshold, just enough to allow my blood to trickle into the bowl—and I wonder if it’s the same bowl she used in the chamber.

A moment goes by before the realization crosses her face.

“What is this?” Her voice drops, laced with suspicion.

I hold her gaze, unwilling to show any sign of weakness. “What are you talking about?” I watch the liquid swirl in the glass.

Amara inspects it closely, her eyes narrowing. “This… This isn’t virgin blood.”

The air shifts instantly, the tension spiking in an instant. I feel the chaos in the air. The administrator’s eyes go wide, her mouth hanging open as the blood swirls in the vial, no longer pure, tainted by the truth she never saw coming.

Her lips tremble, and in that moment, all composure slips. She lets out a growl so primal, so filled with rage that it seems to tear through the air itself.

“You lied to us. You deceived me,” I say.

Her hands shake as she grips the vial, eyes filled with fire when she meets my gaze.

“You stole my sister. And you conspired to have me join your forces under false pretenses.” I step closer to the protectionboundary, matching her fury, but my voice is ice-cold. “You do not fight fair, and now, neither do I.”

Amara shrieks and falls to her knees, her cronies around her immediately rushing to her side. She lets out another hollow wail, the sound so guttural, so filled with fury that it chills me to the bone. “You will pay for this, you insolent little—” She lunges forward from her knees, slamming her palms against the invisible boundary of Lucian’s wards. A harsh ripple of dark magic crackles from her witches, colliding with the shield.

“You ruined everything!” one of the dark witches snarls, eyes flashing with malevolent light. She and two others raise their hands, chanting in a guttural tone. Red sparks crackle along their fingertips, coiling into a sickly aura of magical force.

Suddenly, arcs of power crash against Lucian’s protective wards, like thunder battering a fortress wall. The entire estate seems to vibrate beneath the assault. My breath catches, fear and determination warring in my chest. Lucian remains calm, stepping up to reinforce the barrier. I feel a surge of his power joining with the wards, spreading like a shockwave outward.

A wail of frustration echoes from the witches outside. Their spells rebound against them, forcing them back a few steps. Amara, unhinged, screams and tries to hurl another wave of dark energy. Sparks dance wildly in the air, searing my vision. I brace myself, ready to defend if the wards falter.

I clench my hands at my sides, watching a slayer go flying when he tries charging the wards. He hits the gravel with a grunt, only to scramble back up, fury etched in every line of his face. Another witch hurls a bolt of sickly green magic that crackles like bottled lightning, slamming into Lucian’s shield in a flash of sparks. My heart pounds, the scene unfolding in a chaos of shouts and unnatural light.

“Push harder!” I hear one of the witches snarl, her tone trembling with exertion. Their energies swell again—toxic,twisting around them. Shadows seem to claw at the edges of Lucian’s estate, an ominous darkness creeping over the lawn.

Amara stands at the forefront, sweat beading on her brow, though her glare remains fixed. “You will pay for this treachery,” she spits, voice raw. Her hands rise, fingers twitching with power. Another concentrated blast slams into the wards, causing the air to shudder. A ripple of golden energy spreads over the estate boundary, warping the view of the intruders as if seen through wavy glass.

For a terrifying heartbeat, the wards flicker. My stomach drops—maybe their combined magic is too strong. I glance back at Lucian; his expression is taut with concentration, and I feel his energy pouring into the barrier, reinforcing it. In that same instant, Rebecca and Nicole rush up beside him, their eyes blazing. They lift their arms, chanting in unison, and I sense a fresh surge of power swell across the garden.

“Hold the line,” Lucian growls through gritted teeth, his voice resonant, commanding. “Stay behind the wards, no matter what.”

A renewed wave of magic blooms outward from his estate like a shockwave. It rips through the swirling darkness of the witches’ spells, forcing the attacking energy backward. The grass underfoot ripples as if caught in a gale; nearby lanterns sputter and flare. For one unreal moment, I see arcs of gold tangling with streaks of black and crimson in midair, magic colliding in a vibrant crescendo above our heads.

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