Honour or Reason - Book 1# in the Burning Prince Chronicles

Part Two: Out in the Light - Chapter Thirty-One

Brilyn unleashed a wave of shadow at the blood coated bricks. It swallowed the red whole, like jaws of an enormous wolf. He allowed the shadow to venture beyond the crack, before commanding it back to himself. It did not transform back into its swirling mass as Bri had wished, instead re-entering him as its sharp warm wave of blackness. Still, Brilyn did not falter. Somehow, in two days, a plan had solidified in his mind. The appearance of the shadow woman had spooked him more than he wished to admit to himself and had set him on a terrifying and exciting course. The fear channelled into his power and gave him reason to keep on trying. His plan could not be enacted without control of his bewildering magic, no matter what he told himself; deep inside, he knew all was lost if he did not learn to control the darkness.

Still, only the warmth of his shadow was comforting. Brilyn's years of being trapped in the darkness had caused him to be wary... even of his own shadows. There was no reason to fear the magic that resided so strongly in himself - shadow would never hurt him again. Well, it couldn't if he got control of it. In his heart he was not preparing for his plan, but something far larger than himself. It was so hard to explain, so incomprehensible. He was standing on a frozen lake, on thin ice, waiting for it to collapse beneath his feet. Brilyn no longer thought of Zoysia - she would never return if she thought him unwell - she was a coward like that. No, Bri's days were consumed with learning how to use his powers and waiting for the ice to crack.

He sat down tiredly and slid his panting and sweating body beneath the roof hole. Barely any sunlight trickled down, instead he saw a glimpse of dark grey rainclouds. It seemed the gods were dreary as himself. Brilyn yawned and closed his eyes. He was weak and terribly hungry. Since his imprisonment, no food had been thrown in for him. Brilyn had survived on beetles he had studied in a survival book and water run off from the tall window. Only that morning he discovered his shadow could carry water from the roof of the tower's chipped tiles down to him. It was not enough to give him proper strength. Brilyn let himself slowly drift off; he needed all the strength he could muster if he was to wield his shadow magic.

Brilyn was in a new prison. The floor, the walls, even the ceiling, were slick and cold as ice. He stood in the centre, wrists, neck and ankles shackled with heavy chains. Bri held his head high, despite the pained tears that rolled down his cheeks. Three people were watching him; two sat upon glass thrones, wearing iron crowns atop their fair heads - a king and a queen. The third stood behind the young king, unadorned yet exquisite. His eyes were narrowed, not at Brilyn but the queen. Brilyn tried to back away, but the chains held fast. A shudder of agonising cold went down his back. Bri gasped and his knees buckled. Blood began to drip from his lips. It was shimmering black, then pearl. Back and forth. He spat it at the queen. She chuckled. Her voice was familiar as she said, "You cannot avoid your fate, scholar. You cannot avoid us."

Suddenly, the scene changed. He was kneeling in a glass cage while the exquisite young man from before peered at him sadly through the bars. Brilyn was sobbing. Blood trickled from his eyes, his mouth. Bri vomited the strange colour-changing blood upon the floor of the cage. The young man reached through the bars and squeezed his shoulder. His voice was familiar also as he whispered, "Not much longer, Brilyn. Not much longer, I swear it. I will get you back to them. I have a plan."

Brilyn replied huskily, "I am not sure I can hold on..."

"Wake up little kit."

Brilyn opened his eyes with a start and tumbled backward, eyes wide. The image of the cage, the blood, it all faded to reveal the Guardian. Jarete looked different. His black hair was shorter and fell in lazy waves, all dishevelled. He smiled lazily, full purple eyes twinkling with cruel pleasure. His voice was a purr. "Are you mad little kit? That is what everyone has told me..."