Dark Harvest (Darkling Mage 2)

“That is what you must do, fleshling. Direct the darkness towards your enemy, and draw on the desire, on the bloodlust you felt when last you used your power. Do you remember the glory of annihilation, the sheer joy of butchering and breaking, so much that the drool drips down your chin, that your blood sings with the very excitement of snuffing out life itself?”

I eyed her cautiously, but I remembered. Every time I opened the door, that was how it felt. The swell of power, of knowing that I could crush and rend and flay if I wanted.

“Then fulfill your purpose. Save those other fleshlings you hold such fondness for.” Hecate grinned. “And savor the kill when it comes.”

A thrill of anticipation ran up my spine, and I wasn’t sure whether to feel guilty about it.

“This feels wrong, Hecate. I don’t like that I’m enjoying the idea of doing this.”

“It is who you are, Dustin Graves. Embrace your darkness.”

I gritted my teeth, intent on pressing on, my eyes focused on the mote of light at the end of the Dark Room, the doorway back to reality. I needed to go back. I’d been gone long enough. But I needed to know.

“Hecate. The corruption. What am I? Do you know?”

Hecate lifted her hand to stroke at my chin, smiling as sweetly as a mother bidding her child a fond farewell.

“A monster,” she said as she faded into the darkness. “The loveliest of abominations.”

A non-answer. Of course. I didn’t wait for her to vanish, breaking into a run. Then Carver was right all along. I was still human, but part of me had changed. Yet according to Amaterasu, part of me had always been more – or less – than human. So were they both right?

No. I couldn’t focus on that. The answer I needed was the one Hecate had given me. I cringed at the pain in my shoulder, fully sprinting for the end of the tunnel, then sprang out of the darkness.

Moonlight returned, and I was on the platform at the peak of the spire once more. Bastion was sprawled across the center of it – winded, and spent, but at least he wasn’t bloodied. The shrikes were all gone, dismissed, or sent down the spire, because their master had what she wanted.

Thea was standing close to the edge of the platform where Bastion had previously held his defense, clutching Asher by the throat. He didn’t look like he had any breath left to scream, but the twitching of his limbs and the wracking of his body told me volumes about the pain.

I stepped towards them. Bastion noticed me first, and he coughed.

“I thought you ran,” he groaned. “You rotten piece of shit. She picked me up and threw me on the ground.”

“I came back, okay. And I’m t

he one bleeding out of a hole in my body.”

“Whatever,” Bastion croaked, attempting to push himself off the ground. “All right. Let’s party. Let’s do this.”

“Stay down,” I said. “Do you have enough power left to grab Asher if she lets go?”

He eyed me warily, but nodded. I nodded back.

I held one hand out, pointing it directly at Thea’s chest. I had no idea what the fuck I was doing, but it felt correct. It felt like she had taught me one last thing by blasting me in the shoulder.

“Thea,” I called out. “Put him down.”

She didn’t. Sickly green energy traveled down her arm as she continued to drain Asher’s power.

“Try and stop me, Graves.”

“You were wrong about me. I did learn one trick.” Her face remained still, but I detected the smallest tic in the corner of her eye. I learned two things, actually. The first was that I was a monster.

And the second was the importance of the magical gesture, of using the hand as a focus. I drew on everything I’d learned from all my mentors, from watching these men and women who could warp the world with a flick of the wrist. I motioned with my fingers, as if firing a spell of my own. Thea flinched, watching for the missile to launch from my hand.

She wasn’t watching the ground.

The mists formed so much quicker this time, the gap that I’d opened for the Dark Room in our reality so small and precise that the shadows emanated from it in a forced stream. Sharp and pointed, it burst from the ground like a lance, or a sword. I thought it a fitting tribute to Vanitas. The blade burst out of the shadows and lengthened fully, a gleaming, metallic stalagmite of solid shadow that was taller than a man, as sharp as a spear.

It staked Thea clear through her body, thrusting with so much force that it lifted her off her feet. Asher fell from her hands. but before he could tumble to the ground, Bastion reached and grabbed for him, pulling him to the center of the platform swiftly and safely. I didn’t know just how much Thea had drained out of him, but the color began returning to his cheeks immediately.