The Lady of the Lake
But as I crouch there, curled up like prey, something shifts in my
thoughts. With the heavy fog out of my mind, I can feel the pulse of magic
flowing through me, stronger than ever. The veil I’ve been using to shield
myself from Talan must have been leeching my magic, smothering my
powers all this time, but it’s gone.
My magic roars to the surface.
When Tana first told me I was the Lady of the Lake, I didn’t know what
it meant. Mordred had promised these powers would grow in Brocéliande,
surrounded by a world of magic. Magic feeds on magic, blooming from the
soil of enchantment here. But only now can I truly feel the Lady of the
Lake’s powers cascading through me, a waterfall of strength.
I’m not alone after all.
An ancient, unbreakable bond connects me to the Ladies of the Lake
who came before me, a magical current flowing through time and merging
with Nimuë’s spirit. This is her home now, and her body lies buried in the
soil of Brocéliande. Her magic lives in the ground beneath me. Her spirit
rushes through the trees and shimmers on the forest rivers.
But it’s Morgan’s power, too. Before she ruled as queen, she was the
Lady of the Lake. Now, her magic ripples through my body.
All three of us—Nimuë, Morgan, and me—are entwined, our forces
churning together.
I am no longer just Nia Melisande, hunted and alone. I am a covenant of
three. A sisterhood. A triple spiral carved into the stones, strong as the oaks,
old as the rocks. Fathomless as the lake itself.
As the magical current flows into my soul, my senses grow sharper,
Fey-like. I am the living keeper of Lake Avalon’s power.
I hear Vidal and the other attackers creeping toward me, their pounding
hearts and labored breaths. My senses drink in every detail: the thick scent
of their hair oils, the faint creak of
Make sure he doen't kill himself
So despite the tiredness dripping down my bones like tar, I stride out of
the room with renewed determination. I can’t stop. I won’t. I will keep
going. I will keep trying. Because I will tear a rip through this fucking
world so I can get to her…
Or die trying.
Every time I hear flapping wings, I half expect Argo to burst through the
trees and land in front of me. But he’s probably still on a ship somewhere in
the fucking ocean, and I don’t know what any animal mender will be able to
do for him.
Yet another thing out of my control.
I’ve tried to pour out power here every day since I got back, and still,
nothing. Rot boils in my veins, fueled by my rage, but the well of raw
power stays empty.
It just makes me even more infuriated.
I feel exhaustion tugging at me as incessantly as the wrongness of my
separation from her. But I stay fastened to the base of this mountain, failing
over and over again. Because failing is better than giving up. Failing means
I’m still trying.
At least there’s no one around to see it—to see this pathetic attempt to
stop failing. No one else comes here. The timberwings won’t allow it—not
even their preferred handlers or riders. The beasts are far too territorial over
this feed site to tolerate anyone else. The only exception, apparently, is me.
Which is why it’s really fucking stupid when I hear a timberwing land
behind me, and then my brother calls out, “You need to rest.”
I sigh, dropping my hands down to my sides. “You shouldn’t be here.”
The female timberwing past the boulders lets off a guttural warning
growl that vibrates through the air. My brother’s beast lets out a responding
one, both equally bristled. At least Ryatt has the good sense not to
dismount. He doesn’t, however, have the good sense not to irritate me.
“Judging by the
Bazı hikâyeler tam tahmin ettiğin gibi ilerler. Bazılarıysa son sayfada tüm bildiklerini sorgulatır. 🤯
Ters köşeleri seviyorsan, seni sonuna kadar merakta bırakacak 3 kitap önerisini keşfetmeye hazır ol!
“I know what I want. I want you to delete that app and never see any of those fuckers again,”
“Not a single one of them is good enough for you, Kase.”
“And you think you are?”
“I wanna try to be.”
“For you, I wanna try. And that alone is…”
“Insane?”
“Yeah. Absolutely insane.”
kısa bir süre duraklayıp kafamda hesap yapıyorum. "Yirmi sekiz buçuk milyonum kalır, aşağı yukarı." “Bu hesaplamayı kafanda mı yaptın?"
Neden yapamadığını sormak dilimin ucunda ama o bir futbolcu. Muhtemelen kafasına o kadar çok darbe aldı ki elliyi bile sayamıyor.
Yastığıma gömülerek gözlerimi kapatıyorum ve bilinçsizlik beni tekrar içine çekmeye başlıyor.
Tam o sırada blender çalışmaya başlar. Gözlerim anında açılır ve kapıya öfkeyle bakarım. “Cinayet yasadışı ve cesedi saklamama yardım edebilecek tek kişi şu anda New Jersey'de yaşıyor.”
Kayıtlara geçsin, bu adam birlikte yaşadığımız süre boyunca günlerce eve gelmezse, kayıp ihbarını yapan ben olmayacağım. Sessizliğin tadını çıkarmakla meşgul olacağım.