10. Could it Harm Me?

ten

Could it Harm Me?

Alessia

T he following day, my fingers itch to flit through more journals, but I fight the urge and instead force myself to eat and change my clothes first thing. I’ve been neglecting self-care, wholly consumed by my obsession with taming my shadow-self.

Fresh air will do me good, and hopefully, it will stave off the loneliness just a little longer. So, I reluctantly trek up the winding stairs. As I emerge from the tree, the door cracks shut behind me, and I lean against it. Turning my face to the sun, I suck in a deep breath and let the worries melt away.

At least for the moment.

Then, the worries intensify. I’m exposed and vulnerable. I could run into Tynan or, worse, Rainer. It’s almost time for him to drop off a new food basket. And as much as my heart yearns to see him, I’m terrified of what might happen.

It’ll be too easy to give in to him and fall into our pattern of seeking comfort in one another. But what happens if I allow him in, only to lose control of my shadow-self? What if I hurt him?

You don’t need him , the shadow says.

It’s listening, always listening.

My stomach pitches, and I fear I’ll be sick. I place my hand on the bark, allowing it to ground me. It’s rough beneath my palm, reminding me that hundreds of thousands of years of magic shimmer in the land around me. Even without knowing my family or the full story of my ancestors, I can feel them here with me.

Closing my eyes, I take a few soothing breaths. When the nausea passes, I reach for the door, not wanting to stay up here any longer.

“Please,” a faint voice calls. “Please.”

My hand pauses on the doorknob.

It’s probably another trick of my shadow-self—a last-ditch desperation to get me to bow to its whims.

“Help, please!” The masculine voice is hoarse with overuse and desperation. “Anyone? Help!”

My spine tingles.

Stepping away from the tree, I cock my head to identify where the sound is coming from. Trees stretch out sporadically around me before thickening into rolling hills and forests in all directions.

“Help!”

I whirl around, drawn toward the sound.

I should kill him .

The thought is so sudden that it nearly topples me over. That one was undoubtedly my shadow. And it’s all the confirmation I need that the damned thing is as alarming as I fear it is.

“What?” I hiss, furrowing my brow. “No!”

Kill him—fuel our magic .

“Hush!” I grit my teeth and tamp down the vicious—and terrifying—urge in favor of jogging towards the tree line.

“Please…” the call grows weaker.

Something about the desperation draws me forward despite the threat inside me. I pause, trying to discern where the voice is coming from. It seems to come from the east—Spiritus Court property rather than the Cursed Wood. And the voice sounds frail, not threatening.

It should be okay to investigate.

Perhaps I’m stronger now—it’s been two months. I can test the waters and see if I can keep my shadow-self inside. If I can do this, then maybe I can see Rainer and my friends again.

I shudder, shooting into the thicket just as another feeble plea rings through the afternoon air.

“Please—don’t leave me here.” The voice cracks.

And it hits me.

Fae do not beg.

The voice belongs to a human .

The wailing grows louder. I slink toward the noise.

They are dying anyway, my shadow-self says. Assist them. Put them out of their misery . Let us grow from it .

“Shut up,” I mutter, my hands trembling.

The urge to give into my shadow’s whims builds. It’s a rotten little seed, festering and growing inside of me.

I can’t let it take root.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I focus on anything other than the dark desires. I envision Rainer’s gentle touch, his adorable dimple, and the way he says my name like it’s the sweetest prayer.

I let my mind wander, replaying the moments we’ve had together. My cheeks heat as I replay our intimate moments, watering down the violence inside of me.

“Please!” Another hoarse cry rings out.

My eyes flip open, and I perk back up, feeling more in control.

Confident I’ve conquered my darkness for now, I emerge from the brush, quickly locating the source of anguish.

A man lies wounded on the ground, with a deep gash on his forehead. Blood trickles out, staining his pale skin. His ankles are twisted in horrifying directions, and I avert my eyes.

I won’t be able to help him back by myself. Glancing over my shoulder, I try to calculate how far Tynan’s shack is from here. It’s beyond my court’s entrance, on the far side of Spiritus land.

This man needs help now . He’s losing a lot of blood—blood that might tempt the vampyr.

Ripping off my tunic, I make quick work of wrapping it around his head to staunch the bleeding.

He cries and moans, pleading for help.

“Quiet,” I say softly. “Save your energy. I got you.”

I think back to how my shadow-self became sentient, heeding my command to untie Seraphina. It could do the same, helping me with this man.

But… that’s dangerous. It wants to kill him.

I can’t risk it.

I study the man. His face is pale, and his lips are dry and purple. His eyes flit shut, and his breaths grow shallow.

Shite.

He’s going to die.

He needs me.

I can do this.

“Help him,” I murmur to my shadow-self. “If we don’t help him, he’s going to die.”

I can help him die quicker.

“We’re not killing him!” I yell through gritted teeth. “Stop suggesting that.”

The man squeaks, weakly raising a trembling hand above his face. “Please—no.”

Pity squeezes my chest, and I take him in, trying to gauge his injuries.

“What happened?” I ask, trying to distract him. My calm tone is at odds with my frantic heartbeat.

“I—” He squeezes his eyes shut, sucking in a sharp breath. “I can’t explain it. But my ankle…” He gestures toward his lower half, covered by leather trousers and dirtied boots. There’s a hunting knife attached to his waist.“It’s broken, I think.”

I don’t bother telling him they’re both broken.

With a groan, he tries to sit up but falls limply onto the decaying leaves.

“You can’t get up at all?” I wince, already knowing he won’t be able to.

“My head.” He whimpers, clutching it. “It hurts.”

Biting my lip, I glance around, searching for something that might be able to help.

Something slithers beneath my skin, like a dozen snakes trying to escape.

“ Help ,” I demand, speaking to the darkness inside me. “Heed my command.”

The man on the ground groans out a reply, but I ignore him in favor of tuning into my mind.

I can handle this .

With a sharp nod, I fill my lungs and focus on the man. I imagine the darkness exiting my skin as I exhale, envisioning the shadows lifting the man and carrying him.

After a few silent, discouraging moments, an adrenaline rush takes me over, and the pressure builds. It shatters like glass, and two dark tendrils explode from my palms, surging toward the man. He screams, his voice cracking with terror.

“It’s okay,” I murmur.

The dark lengths wrap around his neck. I hold his gaze, a tickle of satisfaction coursing through me as his eyes begin to bug out and—

“Stop!” I scream, reaching for the shadow tendrils.

My hand slices through nothing but air, doing nothing to stop the assault.

Clenching my teeth, I focus on the darkness inside me—the one controlling the voice and the shadows.

Stop this! I scream internally. Help him ! Don’t kill him!

To my shock, the shadows recoil, releasing the man’s throat. Instead, they wrap around his limbs, hoisting his body a few feet off the ground.

Sweat beads on my forehead. With shaky hands, I smooth my hair back out of my face. I can’t trust my shadow-self… my control over it is feeble and unpredictable. But this is worth the risk. If he stays here, he will die.

The shadow wavers as it cradles the man. The man screams and thrashes, tearing into the dark tendrils, but they don’t react.

My arms and legs tremble as I lead the way back to the entrance to my court, with my shadow close behind. I’m too on edge to find relief in the fact that it’s obeying my command for now.

I worry about what might happen if I don’t have the energy to command the shadow back inside me. The damn thing has a mind of its own .

And as valuable as it pretends to be, it's dangerous. But if it wanted to, could it harm me?