8. Amber

We get situatedon the ground, and Blaze draws a deep breath, his hands steady as he slices the blade across his palm. The cut is precise, and blood wells up immediately—dark and rich against his skin.

Once the cut is complete, he puts the dagger away.

"Ready?" he asks as he takes out the quill, his voice low, a hint of darkness crossing his eyes as he stares down at it.

"Ready." I take a deep breath, look up at the sky, and steel myself for what's coming.

He digs in before I can overthink it.

I gasp at the first touch of the quill. It's sharp. More painful than anticipated.

Because he's not just writing on my skin.

He's carving into it.

At an agonizingly slow pace.

I understand the need to be precise. After all, I don't want him to make a mistake.

But holy crap, it hurts.

I bite my lip hard and tighten my grip around the compass, trying to keep still, focusing on the skyline instead of the pain. But, like what happens when I get blood drawn, curiosity gets the best of me, and I can't help but look.

Extraho, Blaze finishes writing.

He lifts the quill, and the word glows. But I don't have a moment to relax before the tip of it is back on my skin, digging deep, searing the rest of the spell into me.

My eyes water from the pain.

Morgan's holding her breath as she watches.

Damien's face is unreadable, although every now and then, his gaze flickers to the spot where the quill meets my skin, and his jaw tightens.

Et, Blaze continues, and sweat beads on my brow, each stroke sending a jolt of pain radiating down my forearm to my hand that's holding the compass. He's as focused as ever, his gaze drilling into my skin almost as intensely as his blood on the quill.

"Almost done," he says as he starts writing the final word, and I blink away tears, praying to Sunneva that it'll be over soon—even though I doubt she can hear, or that she's even listening.

I bite my lip to stop myself from crying.

Something metallic fills my mouth.

My blood.

The pain intensifies as Blaze continues to write. It's like fire running through my veins, and it's reaching through me, burning through my blood as it searches for something dark and unmistakable inside of me—the potion.

It's gathering the potion's darkness, pulling on it with so much force that it's like it's sucking the marrow out of my bones.

Just when I'm not sure I can take it for a second longer, Blaze pulls away the quill and releases my arm.

Three words glow on my skin.

Extraho et infundo.

Extract and infuse.

The words glow brighter, and the pressure in my arm builds. Then, an electric shock, starting at the word inked on my skin and exploding out toward the compass.

I can barely see, barely breathe, barely think. It's like Blaze's blood magic is ripping apart my DNA, and all I feel is pain.

What if this is a trick? What if Blaze isn't here to help me? What if he's here to kill me?

Because that's what it feels like this spell is doing. Destroying me inch by inch, until it burns so hot that I'll turn into a pile of ash, like Lucas after he was killed by the shadow souls.

With that thought, blinding light flashes across my eyes, and I cry out, falling back onto the ground.

But my head doesn't smack onto the concrete. Because suddenly, big, strong arms are wrapped around me, propping me up.

Damien.

And, amazingly, my body warms with something I worried I'd never feel again.

Sun magic.

It floods through me, renewed, no longer hidden behind the potion's filmy barrier. Like it was desperate to be free.

Damien grimaces, and I realize—my magic is heating up my skin.

Vampires are already more sensitive to the sunlight than any other supernatural. Now, my light is burning him.

And he's holding on anyway.

"Sorry," I say, reluctantly pushing myself out of his embrace.

"No problem." His tone is distant and professional, and it's like a punch to my gut. "How do you feel?"

Like I was just stoned to death, carved into pieces, and dragged through the fiery pits of Hell.

"All good," I say instead, since technically, right now, it's true.

The pain disappeared the moment the potion went into the compass. My magic is back. So, I assume the spell worked.

Finally able to breathe again, I reach for the compass I dropped on the ground.

I pause halfway there.

Because the words for the spell aren't glowing anymore. Instead, they're inked on my forearm in dark red blood.

I feel deep in my soul that they're going to be part of me permanently, etched into the core of my being until the end of time.

"Matching tattoos." Morgan pulls up her sleeve to reveal her forearm, which also has blood-red letters inked into it. "Sort of."

Her tattoo may be made of the same color ink, but the word is different from mine.

Sanare.

"What happened?" I ask, although I find myself looking to Blaze instead of Morgan, since he's likely the one who did it to her.

"We ran into a roadblock on our quest for the quill," he says simply. "A monster. It almost killed her. So, I used a spell to heal her."

He shrugs, as if almost dying and then being brought back to life with mysterious, possibly dark magic is an everyday occurrence.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I return my focus to Morgan, who has a sheepish look on her face as she pulls her sleeve back down to cover the scar.

She takes a moment to think, then says, "I guess I didn't want to tell you how much it hurt."

Despite my annoyance at her, I can't help but smile.

"I suppose it's better that I didn't know ahead of time that it would feel like my entire body was being burned and ripped apart," I say. "I might not have gone through with it."

It's a joke, of course. I would have done anything to get my magic back.

"For some reason, I doubt much would have stood in your way," Damien mutters, standing up and inspecting the compass.

I want to say something snarky to him, but I don't, since he's not wrong.

Instead, I stand as well, followed by Morgan and Blaze, so we can also get a good look at the compass.

The previously shiny metal is now tarnished, the amethyst in the center worn and dull. But most noticeably, there's a darkness around it. Not a visible one, but an intangible one.

The spell definitely worked.

Which means, ideally, the compass will be able to call shadow souls—and other monsters—toward it when the person holding it wants to find them.

I reach for it to feel it for myself, but before I can touch it, a burst of brilliant light cuts through the sky.

The others have to shield their eyes, but I can see with perfect clarity as a woman materializes from a beam of the sun's rays. Her golden hair shimmers around her shoulders, and her eyes, reflecting the purest light, fix on me with an intensity that peers into my soul.

Sunneva.

"Amber," she begins, her voice strong yet soothing. "I see you succeeded in repairing your magic, although not without considerable struggle."

"Where have you been?" I ask the first thought that forms in my mind, continuing before she can answer. "You ignored my texts. You weren't at your apartment. I could have used your guidance—your support. But you disappeared on me. Why?"

The words come out in a rush, and I realize how angry I am at her for shutting me out when I needed her the most. And while it might not be the brightest thing in the world to raise my voice at a goddess, right now, I don't care. She chose me to gift with her magic. I assume that means she chose all of me, including—as Damien loves to point out—my more impulsive traits.

Her expression remains serene, my tone apparently not bothering her in the slightest.

"Sometimes my absence will be necessary for you to find strength within yourself," she explains, kind, but firm. "I wouldn't have gifted you with my magic otherwise. And while I could guide you at every step, it's essential for you to face challenges on your own to grow and become the most powerful version of yourself you can be. Plus, you have your friends here." She pauses to look at them, her gaze lingering slightly on Damien's before returning to mine."You didn't need me. Their help proved to be more than enough."

"Hold up for a second," Blaze says before I can reply to Sunneva, and all eyes go to him. "Who are you?"

"I'm Sunneva," she says with a warm smile. "Goddess of the sun."

His shoulders relax slightly, his stance softening. "The one who star touched Amber," he says.

A nearly childlike amusement crosses her eyes. "You've heard of me."

"Yep." He steps back, although he's still holding the quill, ready to do who knows what with it.

Sure, the quill is strong. But is it strong enough to affect a goddess?

If Sunneva's worried, she doesn't show it. Likely because she's not worried.

"Now, let's return to business," she says, refocusing on me. "Congratulations on fixing your magic. Because now, you have the power you need to find and claim the Solar Scepter."