And there it is, my worst fear, worst nightmare, out on the table for everyone to see. This is the terror that has haunted me for the past eight days, the nightmare that comes even after I’ve banished thoughts of Kyle and the ACW and what they’ve done to me. It’s not just my fear that Declan’s own shadows will overwhelm him, but that being soulbound to me will cast him irretrievably into the darkness. I could see it in him last night and it terrified me. That’s why I pulled back from him. Not because I was afraid of him, but because I was afraid for him. The longer we’re in contact, the closer we get, the faster one of us will be destroyed.
“I can’t hurt him like that, Lily. I can’t. It will end up destroying me as surely as I’ll have destroyed him.”
For a long time, Lily doesn’t say anything. Not that I’m surprised. There’s not much she can say. I’ve spent the last eight days examining the problem from every side I can think of and I’ve got nothing. I know Declan, who is so much more accomplished in Heka than I am, has done the same thing. If he’d come up with a solution, he would have said something. He hasn’t. Which leads me to believe that there really is no solution.
“It’s not done yet, Xandra.”
“You’re the one who told me there was nothing I could do about the Anathema, nothing anyone could do. You did the research.”
“I know. But those are just old books. What do they know?”
I stare at her, my mouth open and eyes wide. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Lily?” My best friend is a historian through and through, one whose powers are linked to her constant quest for knowledge. Currently working on her PhD in ancient symbols, she all but worships books, and we both know it.
“I’m serious,” she tells me. “Yes, in the past, no one’s managed to undo an Anathema like this. But then, there’s no proof that it’s ever been used on people with the kind of power you and Declan have. You’re the seventh daughter of the seventh daughter of the most powerful priestess who ever lived. You have more talent, more magic, in your blood than anyone else living today. And Declan . . . Well, he’s just Declan. He can do anything. Who says he can’t do this, too?”
“Don’t.” I get off the couch and cross to the window. Stare outside where it’s starting to rain yet again. With the gray sky and grayer clouds, it looks almost as dark and bleak as I feel. “Please, don’t give me false hope. I can’t take it.”
“It’s not false if there’s a chance.”
“But there isn’t.”
“There could be.” She sighs gustily. “Are you feeling weaker? Is Declan?”
“No, of course not, but that’s the whole point. When we’re near each other, being soulbound amplifies our power right up until—”
“No until. So your magic is good and so is Declan’s. How about your soul? Do you feel like it’s fracturing?”
“I told you about the darkness last night.”
“How do you know that wasn’t just you? After what they did to you, you have every reason to want Councilors dead. Maybe that’s what you were feeling.”
“And maybe pigs can fly.” But she’s got me thinking, hoping. Which is somehow a million times more painful than accepting.
“Well, how do you feel now? Do you feel dark? Broken?”
“I feel exhausted.”
“Of course you do. But that’s not the same thing.”
“What about Declan, Lily? There’s so much darkness in him already. And now, with this revenge thing, it’s just getting worse. But is that because of his anger or because of me? Does he have a handle on it or is it spinning out of control because of our connection? I can’t tell the difference. The only thing I do know for certain is that he won’t tell me if he’s in trouble.”
“So what? Are you going to spend your life waiting for shit to happen? Like that chicken?”
I turn to stare at her. “What chicken?”
“You know, the one with the sky. She ran around screaming that it was falling, except it wasn’t. It was an acorn or something.”
“Are you talking about Chicken Little?”
“Yes! Chicken Little. She wasted her life worrying that the sky was going to fall. Don’t be Chicken Little.”
“Lily?”
“Yeah?” She looks so proud of herself that I almost hate to burst her bubble.
“In the end of that story, they all died.”
“They did?”
“Yep. A fox ate them all because they were so worried about the sky falling, they forgot to be afraid of him.”