Page 92 of Crimson Shadows
As I approach, I feel a strange energy pouring from the stone. It’s familiar somehow, like a half-remembered dream. Like the presence I felt earlier, but different. Older. More primal.
Without thinking, I reach out and touch the monolith. The moment my fingers make contact, a jolt of energy surges through me. Images flash before my eyes, too fast to make sense of. Blood. Fire. Shadows that move with a life of their own. Battles fought in darkness, power beyond imagination wielded by figures shrouded in mystery.
I try to pull my hand away, but I can’t move. The energy builds, growing stronger, more intense. My whole body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending screaming in protest.
Pain explodes behind my eyes, and I hear myself scream. The sound echoes through the clearing, sending birds scattering from the trees.
“Who are you?” I shout, my voice echoing in the clearing. “What do you want?”
For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. The forest seems to hold its breath, waiting. Then, a voice. Her voice. My voice.
“I am you,” it says. “And you are me. We are one, little bitch. Accept it.”
The words resonate through me, shaking me to my core.
“No,” I growl, fighting against the pain, the intrusion. “I’m Adelaide Légère. AdelaideBlack.”
Laughter echoes in my mind, cold and cruel. “Oh, little bitch. You have no idea what you are.”
The energy surges again, and I fall to my knees, my hand still pressed against the stone. I can feel her trying to take control. It’s like being torn in two, my soul splitting apart.
“Stop,” I gasp. “Please.”
“I can’t stop,” the voice says. “I am you. Your power. Your potential. Your destiny.”
“I don’t want it,” I cry out. “I just want to be me.”
The laughter comes again, softer this time. Almost sad. “Oh, Adelaide. You can’t fight what you are. We are the shadow that walks in daylight, the power that flows through your veins. We are Crimson Shadow.”
With a final burst of energy, the connection breaks. I fall back, my hand finally free from the stone. The clearing spins around me as I struggle to catch my breath. My whole body aches, every muscle screaming in protest.
As my vision clears, I see that the symbols on the monolith are glowing faintly. Red, like blood. Like her eyes. Like my eyes.
I scramble to my feet, stumbling away from the stone. My head is pounding, my whole body aching. But I’m me. Just me.
For now.
What the fuck was that? Who is she? What am I? The questions swirl in my head, unanswered and terrifying. But one thing is clear: I can’t keep this to myself anymore. I need help. I need to speak to Blackthorn, or maybe even Randall.
The forest seems different as I retrace my steps. Darker, more alive. I can feel eyes on me, watching from the shadows. But nothing attacks. Nothing approaches. It’s as if the forest recognises something in me, something dangerous.
I trip over a tangled mass of roots and fall to the ground, my ankle twinging with pain. “Fuck,” I growl as I sit up and brush my hands off on my jeans. “Fuck you, roots. Fuck you, forest, Fuck you, Crimson. Fuck everything.”
Tears spring into my eyes, and I haul myself onto a fallen log, dropping my head into my hands as I cry for everything I lost, everything I thought I didn’t want, but miss like crazy right now.
39
ZEPHYR
The scentof damp earth and decaying leaves fills my nostrils as I slip through the forest, my footsteps muffled by the thick, dark fog that clings to the ground. This is unusual. It’s like wading underwater, unable to see your hand in front of your face.
As I round a bend in the path, the fog clears, and I spot Adelaide. She’s sitting on a fallen log, her shoulders slumped, and her head bowed. Even from a distance, I can see the tightness in her body, the way her hands are clenched in her lap. She looks so small and vulnerable, and it takes all my self-control not to rush over and wrap her in my arms.
Instead, I slow my pace, approaching her cautiously. I don’t want to startle her or make her feel like I’m invading her space. As I draw closer, I see the faint traces of blood tears on her cheeks, and it freezes my already icy blood.
“Princess,” I say softly, trying to keep my voice steady. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
She looks up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and haunted. “I’m fine,” she says, but her voice is thin and shaky.
