Chapter 6 The Shadow's Edge

Last, the mercenaries' camp was meant to be a brief sanctuary, yet there was a vague discomfort that had attached itself to Evie like a parasite. A gentle crackle of the fire kept them warm as Garret, Lila, and Tomas huddled together discussing their next steps. Rylan sat next to her, his easy smile and relaxed posture a far cry from her own tension.

"We'll go to Blackthorn at first light," Rylan said, drawing a crude map in the dirt with a stick. "It's a trading center, and we can acquire horses and provisions there. Plus it's far enough from the capital that we wouldn't get into trouble."

"Blackthorn's crawling with bounty hunters," Garret grumbled, his arms folded tight across his chest. "If they recognize her, then we are doomed."

"They won't," Rylan said with confidence. "Evie's sporting a new look, and we'll stay under the radar. What's more, we've got you three watching our backs.

Lila smirked. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Rylan."

Evie tuned the banter out, her mind whirling. Blackthorn was a risk, but Rylan was right they needed supplies if they were to make it to the capital. And still, the idea of entering a town brimming with bounty hunters made her skin crawl. She looked at her hands, the dark energy still simmering beneath the surface, always a reminder of what she could do of the power and the danger that she had inside her.

"Evie," Rylan said, yanking her from her thoughts. "You good?"

She nodded, even though her stomach turned. "I'm fine."

Rylan looked at her for a moment, expression inscrutable, then turned back to the others. "Okay, time to sleep a little bit. We've got a long day ahead."

The Night's Watch

She wasn't true or anything. She couldn't have imagined what unexpected horrors would have visited her in the night's dead hand and she wouldn't have shut herself to them; the camp grew silent; Garret and Tomas purred gently, and the others didn't bother arguing. She paid her roll on the ground, the dagger lying on her lap, and gazed into the flames. She turned the light into her palms. Neither would let me forget the previous days' events: betrayal, rote flame. I felt like a skin-deep alien, a stranger at my side, and a monster at my back. What did I become? There was rustling behind the bushes. I was on my legs, the dagger in my right hand, my passion prickling around me. The thunderstorm died in the dark forest, and shafts of moonlight cut through the shade, with long trees stretching shadows. Her eyes swept through the clearing, and her heart was about to break, but there was nothing, nearly. "Wind just," "the breeze," that was right. Maybe one of them didn't lower their guard, but maybe one of them did. "Or perhaps not," a voice murmured behind her. I had to rotate, slash with a dagger, but the sound came out of nowhere. A gritty, growling, and inhumane evil. A chill swept across her skeleton, shadows warping, and crossed. "Who?" who said, even though her pronunciation never altered, her tone wouldn't let her words slip away. The shadows took shape. She was tall and gaunt, her eyes burned with red. It was the dimension of oblivion. It's the first flame's guardian. "Evelyn Ashford, you cannot flee," she spoke in the right corner of the mind "What darkness you handle, it's not yours, and it's mine; I'll grow.

Evie tightened her hold on her dagger. "I'm not giving you a thing."

The figure chuckled, a noise that sent chills running down her back. "You think you have a choice? All you are is a conduit, a vessel; an object. And when I'm finished with you, there will be no flesh left."

Evie didn't have time to reply before the figure dove for her, its shape melting into a cloud of pure shadows. She slashed about with her dagger, but the blade struck through the darkness without any effect. The darkness cloaked her like a shroud, chill and strangling, and the dark within her seemed to be drawing out, as if the figure was siphoning the very essence of her soul.

"No!" she screamed, her voice hoarse with despair. She drew upon all the willpower she could muster up, all the anger, and released the dark energy in a flash of bright light. The shadows withdrew, screeching in agony as the figure screamed and faded to nothing.

Evie sank to her knees, chest laboring, body shaking. The fire was dead, and the camp was quiet. She glanced around to see if the others were watching her in horror and, seeing them fast asleep, undisturbed, turned back to the pillow.

Had it been real? Or just another nightmare?

The Morning After

The next morning, Evie said nothing about the incident. Her mind still turned from the encounter, she packed her things quietly. Rylan recognized her anxiety but didn't push her, although his eyes stayed on hers longer than needed.

On the road, heading for Blackthorn, Evie couldn't shake the sense that someone was watching her. The shadows felt darker, the forest quieter, as if the world itself were holding its breath. She glanced back over her shoulder, half-expecting to see the man from last night, but there was nothing.

"You okay?" Rylan said, falling in step beside her.

"It's fine," Evie said, her voice taut.

Rylan didn't seem convinced, but he didn't press. "We'll reach Blackthorn by noon. Stick with me, and we will be OK."

Evie nodded, her head elsewhere. The words of the figure reverberated in her mind, the chilling cost of her power. She believed the ritual had brought an end to her suffering; only now she knew it had only just begun.

And as it rose above the horizon, casting silhouettes over the long swath of road, Evie couldn't shake the thought: Was she crossing toward her fate or her demise?.