CONQUERING SHADOWS (Shadows Book 3)

Chapter 8

Dawn broke.
Morning's first light had crept over the horizon, bathing everything it touched in warm, golden light. Although, this far up above the world, I still shivered with cold. Above me, wispy clouds drifted lazily across the expanse of the sky, their edges tinged with pink and gold as they caught those first rays of sunlight. The sky itself seemed to breathe colour, as if the Goddess herself was putting on a display.

Ingrid had met us over the North Sea towards the south-easterly tip of England. Unlike the four of us, who were laden down with so many bags and supplies that it had taken extra magic just to get our brooms off the ground, Ingrid flew with nothing except herself. No coat, no bag, no other belongings to tie her to this world apart from the black cobwebbed dress that glowed like amber in the light of dawn.

I glanced to my right where Fawn sailed, determination chiselled into her face. Callan towered over her, sitting with unease. His hands moved continuously from being linked around her waist to resting on her hips. She seemed oblivious to his battle with what he deemed were appropriate boundaries. At first, Callan had wanted to fly with Arden, but Arden had turned green at the thought of being in the air at all, so Fawn was a safer bet.

There were a few hours left until Toby told the coven. I just hoped Jack would be able to put my side across. Whatever the outcome.

As we soared towards the Harz Mountains, anticipation wound tight in my gut. Beneath us, the landscape unfolded like a quilt, where full, green forests were interspersed with rugged mountain peaks. Our destination, the Brocken loomed in the distance like a silent sentinel, its craggy silhouette outlined against the sky. Legends about this mountain were widespread amongst nemocanes. Wild theories of the secrets it held within its stones had grown as old as the mountain itself.

But the truth would only be spilled from a witch's lips. The Brocken peak is where He first fell from grace in the time before He brought us into this world. Nearing the mountain's peak, I could feel the energy of the land shifting around us, a subtle thrum of power that pulsed in the air. The closer we got, the more palpable it became, like the beat of a distant drum calling us home.

The Brocken was shrouded in mist with wisps of fog clinging to its slopes like veils. My eyes passed over the lush green base heading straight to the bare head of the mountain. Amongst the sparse smattering of trees that could stand the altitude and climate, were two dark shapes scorched into the rock. From the ground, they would only appear as discoloured blemishes in the stone, but from the seat of a witch's broom, those marks formed a definite shape - the shape of angel's wings. And they were huge.

As we touched down on the granite rocks, a sense of reverence washed over me, the unanticipated effect of standing on the threshold of a place that held such importance to our kind. How strange that the very spot where He first touched this earth was more well-known than his resting place.

"Let's not waste any time," I said, pulling my arms out of the bag on my back and letting it fall to the earth with a heavy thud. The others did the same, sighing in relief to have the weight off their shoulders. Arden stretched his arms over his head in an arch. Callan checked his weapons, probably hoping one hadn't dropped into the ocean on our crossing.

"Do you feel that? Or am I the only one?" Fawn asked. No-one answered. No-one needed to. Energy seeped through the stones at our feet, entering our world as a low, droning hum. To call it dark would be wrong, but the energy felt raw and wild and powerful.

Like the beings beneath.

I cleared my throat, crouched down and started searching my bag for chalk. "You still don't have to do this. It's not too late."

The wind bit my cheeks as I glanced up at Ingrid.

There was little emotion in her face, in fact not a flicker. "Isn't it? Who would take your angel's place now if I don't?"

She had me there. "Still-"

Turning from me, her dark eyes fell onto the charred angel's wings under our feet. "I've made my mind up. Perform the ritual."

"Everyone ready?" I scanned the faces around me waiting for their consent to begin, however they gave it. Fawn gave a verbal 'ready', Callan offered a shallow nod and I took Arden's tight-lipped smile as his confirmation.

My hand shook as I chalked a five-pointed star onto the rock. It took several attempts of drawing and redrawing the lines to get them to stay visible. The rock seemed to absorb the white powder as if it was a sponge soaking up water.

With the star finally etched into the granite, I positioned myself at the centre, feeling the hum of energy intensify. Ingrid stepped into place, her expression resolute, her gaze locked on the wing-shaped scorch marks. Everyone else formed a circle around us, wispy white breaths visible in the cool morning air.

"By the power of the elements, by the forces that bind our world, we call upon the ancient spirits," I began, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "We seek passage into the realm of Chaos, to retrieve what was lost, to restore the balance."

The ground beneath us vibrated, a low rumble groaning through the mountain. The air grew thick and heavy, crackling with anticipation. Black flames sparked at our feet, stretching until they were long enough to lick our shoes.

Ingrid closed her eyes at the exact time Fawn's opened wide. The pentagram blazed with black fire, and the world around us shifted. The sky darkened and the landscape twisted. The fire engulfed us in a rush of ice-cold air and then I knew nothing else as we were ripped from existence.