65. Mira

sixty-five

Mira

"What are you doing?" I shout at Callum as he tumbles to the ground beside me. Panic grips my throat as Yurghen's dark magic closes in on him while he's prone, but a burst of purple Chroma knocks them back, clearing the moment for Callum to resume his own fight. Thank you, Tairyn, I think to myself.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't just watch from above."

Callum draws his blade, moving to engage Yurghen in combat. I shake my head and yell for him to stop, but I'm frozen in place.

A line of brilliant white chroma, so thin and precise it could be mistaken for a laser beam, pierces Yurghen's growing cloud of darkness. He pauses as the light touches him in the center of his chest, eyes wide with worry.

Above us, lost souls swirl and shriek at the display, working into a frenzy. A vortex of souls twisting like a hurricane gaining speed. The wind picks up around us as the scent of smoke and rain swirl by.

In only a second, the white light sputters out. Yet no further purple Chroma follows. I grasp at the bond in a panic, but Tairyn is alive. He's just spent. All of his Chroma is gone. Our cover. Our plan, gone.

My mind darts back to the day when Tairyn explained how to break his soul's tether to this world. How to channel white. You're the best hope we have.

Yurghen's hesitation is gone, his cackling laugh grows as if he's finally victorious. His eyes darken to pitch black as he throws a massive assault. A wall of darkness hits us, and I hear Callum's gasp as he's thrown backward.

My hand reaches out, desperately trying to harness the magic flowing through me. To grab the magic with both hands, pulling the full spectrum of colors with it. But it's like trying to catch a gust of wind; elusive, slippery, and as dangerous as a storm.

It's not enough.

I'm not enough.

This whole plan rested on my abilities. My deep well of Chroma, and now I've failed. Despair rises in me as I flail wildly against him.

Helpless and alone.