6. Master My Shadow-Self

six

Master My Shadow-Self

Alessia

A fter a few days of isolation, I head to the topsoil for fresh air. My arms ache from all the washing and dusting I’ve done, and I’ve barely made a dent. Granted, I’ve abandoned the cleaning early each day to read Enid’s journal. So far, I haven’t found anything particularly useful. Her entries mainly cover mundane tasks in her daily life, yet it’s fascinating to enter her mind. It makes me feel a little less alone.

I exit the tree, and my skin softens under the delightfully warm air. Sunlight filters in through the leaves overhead, scattering in bursts across the forest. The peppy bird chirps greet me, provoking a serenity not found below ground.

Following Ken’s directions from the other day, I head west toward Tynan’s shack. I don’t know that I’ll interact with him yet, but it could be helpful to know where his home is in relation to my court’s entrance.

“You better behave,” I warn my shadow-self.

Silence responds. I shake my head, huffing a breath. It’s been quiet again, but I know it’s only a matter of time before it riles up next.

Trekking up the small hill, I weave in and out of lichen and moss-covered rocks. Sturdy trees blanket the rolling hills around me. At the top of the tallest hill, I can make out a slanted roof in the distance—down in the valley.

The log shack, nestled amidst the ferns, was likely once a beautifully constructed cabin. Now, it stands dilapidated and weather-worn, leaning slightly to the side. However, unlike the first time I saw it, when the land was still a dying swamp, it has a more quaint, whimsical feel.

Tynan’s home is a reasonable distance away from the entrance of my court—close enough in case I need him but far enough to avoid any accidental encounters.

To the left of his home, I spy a clump of ink-colored roses clustered together at the base of a spindly tree, marking where I killed Edvin and Nilda.

It’s a haunting reminder of the moment that forever changed me.

Squinting, I observe another structure beyond Tynan’s, nestled in a thicket of trees further out. Unlike Tynan’s shack, this building appears made of stone. It’s practically engulfed by the greenery, with a lush coat of moss and ivy camouflaging it. I hadn’t noticed it before.

Curiosity tugs me forward. Scaling down the hill and bypassing Tynan’s home, I navigate through the sprawling branches and abundant foliage until I reach the semi-hidden structure. Stretching long, the building is a stout, one-story rectangle with a solid presence and no windows.

And it isn’t just sitting between the trees—it’s a part of them. Ancient, twisting trunks shoot through the building, their branches intertwining overhead .

Creeping forward, I reach for the rough, weathered wood and press the door inward. The air is thick with musk and waste, and I immediately gag, pulling the neckline of my tunic up to cover my nose and mouth. It does little to weaken the offensive stench.

It’s eerily quiet inside, and slivers of light peer in through where the trees sprout up and out of holes in the stone roof. Tree branches entangle overhead, creating a skeletal web. Unlike the branches beyond the roof, these ones lack leaves. The ground is dirt, with ragged roots running in all directions.

My nerves alight, and my body tingles with awareness. I leave the door behind me open, allowing extra light to illuminate the space as I stride deeper.

A stuttered breath fills the air, coming from one of the trees.

Swallowing down my apprehension, I freeze, carefully studying the trees. Something wiggles slightly, and a rattling noise fills the space. Slowly, I lift my gaze toward the ceiling.

My heart drops into my bowels as I take in a naked man entangled with the branches. His pale skin is dirty and bruised, and his limbs are almost indistinguishable from the tree’s branches.

I gasp, jerking backward until my spine hits cool stone.

“What is this?” I mutter.

He wiggles, his movements dulled as if he’s drugged. I scan his body, making out his prominent ribs. His body is riddled with pinprick holes, both old and new.

Scanning the ceiling, I notice at least half a dozen fae strung up, chained to the branches.

My eyes widen, and terror courses through me. Trembling, I whirl around .

“Oof—” I smack into a rigid body. Hands grip my arms, pushing me away.

“As much as I’d love your affections, my little brother won’t appreciate you groping me,” Tynan says with a sly smile.

“You!” I take another step back, then glance upward at the writhing bodies. Without another word, I shove past Tynan and bolt out the door.

“For the love of fae,” he yells after me. He catches up to me quickly, keeping up with a jog beside me. “I take it my delightful little brother hasn’t told you about the prisoners?”

My heart continues to race even as I slow my pace.

Rainer hadn’t gone into detail about any prisoners, but he had commented about Tynan’s food source in passing. I should’ve put it together—I should’ve asked what he meant.

Coming to a complete stop at the bottom of the hill, I bend at the waist and plant my hands on my knees to catch my breath. Tynan crosses his arms, looking wholly unimpressed with me. His dark blue eyes hold a hint of turmoil, and the scars on his hands and eyebrow remind me he has an entire past that I’m unfamiliar with.

In response to my fear, my shadow stirs deep within me. I focus on staying calm, not wanting it to erupt.

“Those are the…” I contemplate my words.

“Guilty of heinous crimes,” Tynan supplies. “I keep them alive only to feed.”

“What did they do?” I whisper.

Tynan sets his jaw, and fury blazes in his eyes. “You sure you want to know?”

I nod, desperate to ensure they deserve such a fate.

“Well, the newest bastard was found with two faeling in his home—so used and abused that the littlest one couldn’t even walk without—”

“Stop!” Tears prick at my eyes as I turn away. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”

“You asked,” he says flatly.

“I changed my mind.” I swallow the painful lump in my throat. “The others? Similar crimes?”

“All the same—abusing younglings. Unforgivable, even by fae standards.”

I don’t know what to make of this. I don’t want these types of horrible beings on my soil near my court. It’s how Tynan staves off his bloodlust—I get that—but it doesn’t make the situation any better.

Except… those fae deserve a fate much worse than becoming blood bags for Tynan.

They don’t deserve to live , the voice inside me whispers.

No, they don’t, I agree.

The thought might’ve once shocked me, but not anymore.

Allow me to cleanse the court. I can purge their souls and deliver the sentence they deserve.

Restless, my shadow twists and wiggles within me like a serpent preparing to strike. An indescribable need floods my veins, engulfing me in a dark, intense heat.

“No,” I whisper. I can’t let myself be influenced by my dark counterpart. But when an influx of unfamiliar faces of small, innocent faelings overwhelms my mind’s eye, my stomach clenches painfully. It knocks the breath from me with a powerful punch.

They were just children—faelings .

“Stop,” I croak. Pressing my palms into my eyes. “You can’t possibly know who they were.”

Does it matter what they looked like? It could be any one of these children. It could’ve been you—it was you.

I shake my head, desperate to make the thoughts stop. I’m vaguely aware of Tynan speaking to me, but I can’t hear him over the shadow’s voice filling my mind.

Not all of them made it out alive. And the ones who did? They lost their youth and innocence. They are forever broken—

“Don’t say that!” I turn around and dart back to the small prison.

This time, the wrath of my bloodthirsty shadow fuels me. Bursting into the prison, I release a roar. I don’t know if it’s directed at my shadow-self or at the prisoners—the abusers —but the anger causes the inside of my skin to itch.

My chest heaves.

“They are not broken,” I snap.

My body trembles as the frenzy within me pitches, reaching its peak. I combust with a shriek. Dark, cloudy ink bursts from my skin. It unfurls from my body, splitting into half a dozen wispy tentacles as it lurches for the various bodies entangled with the branches overhead.

Snapping and cracking fills the air as the evildoers are ripped free. One by one, their bodies hit the ground like sacks of potatoes, thumping into the dirt.

They’re too silent. Why aren’t they crying out?

I want to hear them beg for mercy. I want to hear them suffer.

Tynan appears beside me and I swivel to face him. “Your glamour—remove it.” I remember Rainer and him discussing it previously. He glamours them to keep them quiet and complacent. “Now!” I scream when he doesn’t comply quickly enough.

One of my shadow tendrils lashes out, wrapping around his throat and squeezing.

“Okay,” he gasps. “Let me go.”

Placated, the tendril releases him. He stumbles back, coughing.

“You feckin psycho.” He rubs his neck, eyeing me warily. “Just like my brother.”

He widens his stance, a glossy look overtaking his face. His navy eyes flicker light, paling to an almost-white blue similar to his brother’s eyes, before darkening again. His body shudders as he sucks in a sharp inhale, drawing the breath into his lungs for an extended period.

The air around me grows heavy, taut almost, and then, like a rubber band, the spell in the air seems to snap .

Screams of agony fill the air, and my shoulders relax as I drown in them.

My shadow continues its onslaught, snapping bones and torturing the bodies. Their cries are like a savage symphony, and I drown in it, allowing my darkness to feast on their torment.

It’s only a fraction of the pain they caused those little faelings.

They still deserve worse.

“What the feck am I going to eat now?” Tynan asks, staring at me with a hint of distress on his scarred face. “Can you maybe… not kill them?”

I bare my teeth at him. “They deserve it.”

“They deserve a lot worse,” he agrees, putting his hands up to appease me, “but I’m still a full-blooded vampyr. Unlike Rainer, I need blood to live.”

Icy awareness washes over me. The sound of Rainer’s name grounds me, and the anger dissipates enough for me to understand the implications logically. If I kill these prisoners, Tynan will need to feed on others—innocents—to survive.

Shite.

“Stop,” I reluctantly call out.

Closing my eyes, I focus on pulling the tendrils back into me. But they won’t budge. The shadow tendrils stay hooked into the various bodies, and it’s like trying to reel in a fishing line caught on a boulder.

This time, rage fills me for a new reason—for the shadow-self trying to influence me and disobey me.

I can’t lose myself to the darkness.

I promised myself.

Channeling that rage toward my shadow-self, I mentally focus on prying the shadow’s metaphorical hooks from the bodies. Then, I picture them returning to my skin, settling against my bones.

At first, there’s resistance, but then it starts to work. The shadows waver, melding into one dark figure before fading into my flesh. My arms go limp, and my legs threaten to buckle as fatigue settles alongside my shadow-self.

You should’ve let me finish them—their souls would fuel us , the shadow hisses within me.

Gritting my teeth, I desperately attempt to drown out the relentless voice in my head and the piercing screams of agony reverberating through the air. As my ears ring, the cacophony of overlapping noises merges into a single, piercing frequency .

I cover my ears, wishing I hadn’t asked Tynan to remove the glamour in the first place.

“You can… fix it,” I say to Tynan. “Glamour them again. Get them to stop screaming.” Please .

My human nature wants to apologize for causing such mayhem, but instead, confused and embarrassed by the ordeal, I flee the prison, leaving Tynan to clean up the mess.

Violence is incredibly out of character for me, and though I don’t want to place blame on my shadow-self, I would’ve never done such a thing without its influence.

This is why we’re better together.

No.

They deserved it. Let us feast on the souls of the wicked. It’s a benefit for us both—

“Leave me alone!” I yell, drowning out the voice.

My body quivers as I struggle to navigate the stairs. I feel like I was run over by a carriage.

All because of my shadow-self’s expenditure?

I’m not sure how it works yet, but I’m terrified of what I might become by my shadow’s guidance.

At first, I felt empowered to have darkness on my side, bending to my whims. But now I see the truth—I am not in control. No. Like iron bars, my bones confine the voracious darkness within me, but what will happen when it decides it no longer has patience for a cage?

Will it violently claw its way out, destroying me in the process?

I am trapped in my skin alongside it, fearful of the beast I harbor. If I struggle to maintain control, everyone around me is at risk. It’s already made unsavory comments about Rainer—and, previously, Eoin. It’s tried to convince me I’m stronger without everyone else.

What happens if it decides it doesn’t like someone in my life? What happens if I continue to disagree with it?

I had planned to go to Dovenak with Rainer to steal the iron so that Seraphina can break the curse on the woods. I want to help Fern break her addiction. And most important to me, I want to free the Tradelings. But how can I do any of that successfully or safely when I’m fighting with myself?

I’m dangerous.

I have no choice—I need to protect myself and those around me by learning to master my shadow-self.