49. Danica

Danica

49

" D anica!" The voice slices through the dense shroud of mist, laden with urgency and fear, a desperate plea that chills me to the bone.

Emily.

My heart drums a frantic beat as her distant cry pierces the heavy fog blanket, a lifeline in the disorienting white veil. Silence mocks me as I launch myself up, eyes darting through the impenetrable mist, searching for any sign of her, any hint of where she might be.

"Emily, where are you?!" I shout desperately, my voice raw with panic and dread. But my words are swallowed up, muffled as if shouting into a pillow, absorbed by the thick, cloying fog that surrounds me on all sides.

Then it cuts through again—Emily's scream, twisted with horror, a sound that chills me to the bone and sets my heart racing with a fear that's almost paralyzing. "Danica! Please...help—"

Panic's icy fingers tighten around my throat as I lurch blindly into the impenetrable mist, straining for any sign of her, any hint of where she might be. The cries for help become my anchor in the blinding void, the only thing that keeps me moving forward, the only thing that keeps me from succumbing to the despair threatening to overwhelm me.

"Emily!" My voice does little against the heavy blanket of quiet smothering each plea, each desperate cry for help.

Through the veil, I spot them—Rhyland and the others laid out in an unnatural sleep, their bodies still and unmoving, their faces slack and peaceful despite the horror surrounding us. Fear grips me tighter, a vise around my heart threatening to squeeze the life out of me.

Why can't they hear her screams? Why won't they wake up and help me find her?

"Dani!!" Emily's scream jolts me from my thoughts into motion, a bolt of pure adrenaline that sends me stumbling forward, my feet slipping on the damp ground.

Sentient mist writhes around me, obscuring the treacherous terrain, a living thing that seems to delight in my fear and confusion. My foot catches on a hidden root, and I stumble. The frigid air turns my breath to frost that dissipates into the thickening fog, a ghostly vapor adding to the surreal horror of the moment.

"Emily! Where are you?" I call, cupping my hands around the radiant orb sparking to life in my palms, a tiny sun pulsing with a warm, golden light. Under its glare, the world takes shape— trees dripping with dew, the slick ground beneath my feet, the twisting path leading deeper into the mist.

"Dani! Oh god...please!" Her blood-curdling scream nearly shatters me, a sound that's pure terror and desperation, a plea cutting me to the core.

I press on, my light carving a path through the fog, a beacon in the darkness that guides me forward step by fumbling step. "Emily! Hold on!" I call, my voice cracking with the strain of my own fear and desperation.

Even as I push myself to the limits of my endurance, even as I strain every sense for any sign of her, I can feel hopelessness creeping in, the sinking realization that I may be too late, that I may have lost her forever.

Yet, I can't give up. I won't give up.

Despite all the evidence, some part of me doubts this is real—is this Whisperling trickery? Some cruel illusion designed to torment me? But her terror pierces my heart, a visceral thing I can't ignore, that I can't dismiss as mere trickery.

I probe with my senses, reaching out with every ounce of my power, searching for any hint of deception, any sign that this is not what it seems. But I find only her terrified aura, familiar and undeniably real, a beacon of fear and desperation cutting through the fog like a knife.

Her screams sharpened with urgency, each a needle of panic driving me forward, propelling me through the mist with a speed and determination I didn't know I possessed. I quicken my pace, knowing that she's just ahead—her desperation is a beacon through the ivory shroud, a lifeline I cling to with every fiber of my being.

Then I see it—a silhouette forming in the mist, a lone mirror standing as an aberration in this twisted landscape, pulling me toward it like a magnetic force. I approach cautiously, inner alarms ringing at the bizarre sight that's so out of place here, so at odds with the natural world around me.

I lock eyes with my own scared reflection, my face pale and drawn, my eyes wide with fear and confusion. But I'm not alone—Emily appears beside me, her face streaked with tears, her eyes wild with terror as Azrael clutches her hair, wrenching her head back brutally, his face a mask of cruelty and malice.

"Dani...help..." she whimpers, her voice broken and shattering my heart into a million pieces.

Rage explodes within me in a supernova of fury and protectiveness, a fire consuming me from the inside out. I summon every ounce of power I possess, the air crackling with the force of my anger as I lock furious eyes with Azrael, my gaze a promise of retribution and vengeance.

"Let. Her. Go." Thunder laces each word with steel and deadly promise, a command that brooks no argument, no defiance.

But he merely sneers, his face a twisted mask of cruelty and arrogance, as Emily sobs in his grasp, her body shaking with the force of her terror. "Dani, open the fucking door—help me!" she pleads, her voice a ragged thing cutting me to the core.

Adrenaline sets my blood ablaze, burning through my veins like molten lava. Without hesitation, my palms crash against the chilly glass, shattering Emily's name in a jagged cry—a desperate plea that echoes through the mist like a banshee's wail.

But where is she? The Playful Pint materializes behind their trapped figures as if reading my mind, a familiar sight that's both comforting and terrifying in its normalcy. A surge of power rises within me, warm and insistent—I can shred the veil to get to her and save her from this nightmare!

"Emily!" I bellow, my hand outstretched, distorted through the shimmering portal surface. It is a lifeline that I pray she can reach and grab with all her strength.

Then Azrael's voice cuts like a blade, cruel and mocking, chilling me to the bone. "Open the damn door, bitch, or your friend dies!" he snarls, his eyes glinting with a malevolent light that speaks of pure evil, of darkness that knows no bounds.

In a blink, he savagely plunges his fangs into Emily's neck, his teeth tearing through her flesh like a hot knife through butter. Her bloodcurdling scream tears at my heart as he rends her flesh, blood pooling beneath them in a grotesque puddle of crimson—the memory of his bite strikes like lightning, that searing, excruciating burn that I know all too well.

Protective rage surges forth in an unstoppable tsunami, a tidal wave of fury and desperation threatening to consume me whole. I feel my deadly power rising like a hurricane, the air sparking with fireworks, mirroring the tempest that rages inside me, the storm that howls for vengeance and retribution.

"Let her go, now." My thunderous voice promises steel, a command that brooks no argument, no defiance.

Fury ignites me as I double down, forcing the portal wider—a luminescent threshold nearly ready to cross, a gateway to the hell that awaits me on the other side. But abruptly, oppressive darkness douses the light as surely as snuffing a flame, a suffocating blanket of shadow threatening to smother me whole. A weight anchors me as the air fills with Rhyland's grounding essence, a familiar scent that's both comforting and infuriating in its steadiness.

"No, no, no! Emily! No—Let me go! She needs me!" I writhe against the iron grip that pins me in place, desperate to reach her, to save her from the monster holding her in his clutches.

But Rhyland's grip is unyielding—his hands are like steel manacles securing me, an unbreakable bond holding me fast. "Dani, it's not real! You have to stop." But I'm undeterred, thrashing against him with all my strength, the need to reach Emily driving every frantic motion, every desperate struggle.

"Angel… listen to me…" His calm voice slices through the tumult of my panic, splashing stark reality against the inferno of my fright and disarray. It's a lifeline, pulling me back from the precipice of my spiraling thoughts, a beacon of sanity amid my madness.

Collapsing on the dewy grass, I understand—it was all an illusion, a cruel trick of the mind preying on my deepest fears and darkest nightmares. The dam breaks as I sob, Rhyland enfolding me in his arms, a cocoon of solace and comfort as I weep, my body shaking with the force of my grief and my relief.

"Are you s-sure?" I grip him tightly, searching for certainty.

His ocean eyes lock onto mine. "Sure of what, Angel?"

"The mirror—Emily? D-did you not s-see them?" I stammer between shaky breaths.

"No, baby. There was nothing. It was an illusion. You were opening a portal—I had to stop you."

But as the weight of my near-mistake sets in, a sinister cacophony pierces the quiet—the same black portal Azrael summoned before, slithering open like an undulating oil slick, a gateway to darkness threatening to swallow us whole.

Instinct propels Rhyland and me to our feet as Azrael and Adrian step through the swirling darkness into our world. Their faces are twisted with malice and cruelty, and their eyes glint with a malevolent light chilling me to the bone.

I'm raging at myself for falling for the Whisperlings' mind games, for letting my guard down long enough for that traitorous bastard Adrian to slip through my defenses. Delving inward, I summon my power, white-hot flames wreathing my hands in crackling energy, a promise of retribution and vengeance.

"The hell with you," I snarl, launching my light to send them back. But it finds only empty air as Azrael's smoke bomb cloaks them in churning shadows. The cowards disappear like a noxious fart!

Shit!

Azrael's too cunning to let me own his ass a second time—not after I chucked him and his pet sorcerer through the portal before, a humiliating defeat he's sure to be itching to avenge. And now the bastards have pulled their disappearing act—no telling where they've scurried off to, what fresh hell they're planning to unleash.

I catch my breath, ready to unleash profanities, but Rhyland's somber expression gives me pause. He's strategizing our next move. I clamp my lips shut, knowing he'll speak when the plan aligns.

Keeping my mouth shut and my temper reined in is wise for now. No sense fanning the flames of the dumpster fire we're currently standing in. I lift my gaze to Rhyland; he's just like a damn statue—unmoving.

Is it shock?

I stretch my hand out, brushing against his. "Rhyland...?"

His head tilts, eyes meeting mine—a tempest swirling in those depths of blue.

Oh, shit, he's pissed .

"We've got a serious fucking problem."