The change between the realms is seamless. If not for the bridge and the trolls, I'd still think I was in the human realm. The bruises that mark my body and the pain that radiates with each step are quick to remind me I'm not. If that wasn't enough proof, the frigid temperatures are a good enough sign. It was the first thing that greeted us; a biting breeze that chilled me deep, made me groan as the breeze brushed past, its nails sharp against my skin. Whatever warmth I'd accumulated from our fight vanished instantly, dragged into the blustering winds that haven't ceased since we crossed. The bushes are thick, and I can barely see the darkening sky. This doesn't stop the cold from mapping its way through the bark and freezing us. I gaze back at the bridge in the distance—Roane confirms we're out of the Nether boundary now—and I consider going back. If the trolls don't kill me, this cold will.

I shift about while plucking at my sleeves, partly for heat, partly to keep from asking Roane what he's discovered in the journal. I'm comforted by the earthy scent of herbs on the fabric, but a burn mark on the sleeve gives me pause. I've never thought much about the day it happened. Aunt Sabana had asked me to look after a tonic that she'd set above an open flame. I'd attempted to stoke the flames as practice in controlling my magic. Instead my powers flared which at the time should've been a giveaway at what was to come. When a magician is about to lose their powers, their connection to the elements become erratic before the link snaps altogether.

I lower my arm and thrust the hood of my jacket over my head. If only doing so would brush away the memories.

"Which way is Convent?" I ask Roane who peruses over one of the maps in Lara's journal.

He follows a trail toward the northern part of mountains with a finger then blindly points straight ahead. "That way, on the other side of Forever."

Forever. The Faerie Kingdom. A thing of childhood tales that's now but a few miles ahead of me.

He closes the book and turns in the opposite direction.

I linger. "What are you doing?"

"We need to go this way, around Forever. "

"But you just said Convent is that way." I motion to the path he'd just confirmed.

"It is, but we need to be alive to get there. " He keeps walking, forces me to jog up alongside him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"For starters, I'm a Troll, More importantly, you're human and the magic in Forever is too much for a human to handle." He points down to the map, outlining a thick, black like running the length of Forever. The southern part of the map is shaded black with many crisscrossed lines. "You won't feel the effects as much if we skim the border and travel through Cruabeg, the old Troll lands. Cruabeg and Forever are of the same realm."

It's fascinating to see it with my own eyes. We learned of it in history, how ash from the Troll lands crept over the borders of Forever, while also reaching the other realms. Their tinkering with machines was frowned upon, a big reason of why humans were also never accepted as part of the magical races; we'd succumbed to science, technology, and logic.

"Is it safe? It's a much longer route..."

"It's the quickest way to Convent. The magic realms and the human realm merge at various points. Seasons and time—the movements of our worlds affect which bridges open up where. Once a bridge from your world aligns with a bridge from this world, the doorways open, and we're able to cross. How long they stay open varies, but it is a cycle."

I stare at the timetable of charts, bridges, and their connections. "If Lara visited all of the realms, she had some idea of the timetables, of when each bridge would connect with a certain realm."

"The Sprites must have gathered all that information for her. We have about a week to get to the other side of Forever. That's when the bridges align and open closest to Convent," he says and hands me the journal. "We better get going."

I stuff the journal in my bag. "Seems like she did it on purpose. Whoever was following her wanted this book." A dispiriting thought settles in my belly. "And I guess that's why she gave it to me. No one would ever suspect me to have it. Maybe before, but not after they found out I was a non-magic."

"Those two back at the house didn't mention the book, so I doubt they know you have it. The faster we figure out what the rest of it says, the sooner we'll find out what we're up against."

"And who," I say, having a good idea of that answer.

***

Based on the maps in Lara's journal, the trip around Forever and through the outskirts of Cruabeg—or the Dead Lands as Lara has it marked on the map, will take us seven days. Going through Forever would take us three days, but seeing as I'm human, traveling around Forever is safest. A human in the faerie realm is a major part of the reason Finvarra was banished. Humans can't handle the pure magic there and go crazy, wanting—needing more of it, as if a drug. It's best I stay away.

We move quickly to keep warm, but with each step, it feels like the cold somehow gets colder. The night also feels endless. It's as if day is night, and night is...night. We build a fire to rest a bit before we set off for the Dead Lands. It's probably best to keep moving, but I'm exhausted and starving. My adrenaline has dwindled and I crash next to the fire. I can't walk another step.

Dancing vines of smoke curl into the air, seeming to frame our backdrop of snowy land and icy towers. Blue light spills out onto the countryside from two crystal towers in the distance, shading the forest in wintry blue. The snow on the bare and gnarled branches looks like diamonds, and though the forest is quiet, the faint sound of sleigh bells resounds in the breeze. I smile, infused with wistfulness and lightness, where I feel I can go off dancing into the snow. It's a different type of magic than what I felt with Roane. His was intense; this is whimsical and intoxicating.

"It's so beautiful here," I say, warming my hands near the flames.

Roane looks tense as he uses a stick to stoke the fire. "Beautiful, but dangerous."

"Like you?"

His eyes flick up and I press a hand to my mouth, realizing my words. "I mean not like you in that you're beautiful."

He chuckles. "Thanks a lot..."

"No, that's not what I meant. Let me finish," I say, tossing a twig at him. "I mean that you don't look like them, like the Trolls on the bridge..."

The small smile that curves his lips fades. He looks back to the fire. His jaw tightens, but he doesn't answer.

"I don't mean to offend you, but being here with you kind of changes everything. All we've ever been taught is that Trolls are these hideous creatures banished to the Nether and bound to darkness. But you're not that."

His broad shoulders curl inward as if shielding himself from the cold... or perhaps my words. "We don't start off that way."

A white cloud gathers at his lips as he let out a slow breath. "It seems everyone has forgotten what we were like before the Nether. All they remember is what we look like after we take on the darkness. That's where the change happens."

"Take on the darkness?"

He pauses for a moment, as if looking for the best way to explain. "Not darkness like night. The darkness of my world is... bodiless, and...alive."

I force a nod, but inside my stomach tightens at the memory of my vision.

"It whispers to you, terrible things. It's always there, with nightmares, depression, violence. It's..."

"Evil."

He nods, his gaze trained on the flickering flames. Though sitting within arm's reach, he feels lifetimes away. "When we've mastered all of our weapons and magic," he motions to his arms, "we take in the darkness of the Nether. We swear an oath that we will let it consume us, so that we can be one with our land. That darkness is what makes us like the ones at the bridge. Either we take it on, or we're torn apart by those who have."

"Oh," is all I can manage. For a few minutes silence stretches between us as I piece everything together. "Why haven't you taken it on? You've obviously mastered your magic and weapons, and the way you fought before was impressive."

"I have mastered my training, but I don't want to take on that darkness, not if I have a choice. I've seen friends change to where I no longer know them. Not just their appearance, but who they are inside. All they know is darkness so it's easier for evil to latch on. They've never been taught anything else."

"But you have..."

He meets my eyes and nods, just barely. My heart strums at the look there, a blend of staggering sadness that seems to deepen with each second our eyes are locked and small happiness at his memories of things other than darkness. The urge to hug him is overwhelming, but I curl into myself and wrap my arms around my knees instead.

He gazes back at the flames as if wanting to burn the gloom of his thoughts away, to instead focus on those moments of light. "My uncle taught me a lot about the old world, about how things were and could be again. When I was younger and before I started my training, we would go through the caves under his temple, the same ones I used to escape, and stand as close as we could to the boundary of the Nether to watch the sun rise from the darkness, to get glimpses of the outside world. He wanted me to see that there was more..."

A sigh deflates his frame. "It was beautiful, and my uncle always told me we could have it again. Lara also believed this. She let me see that there was another side to magic and life, and that it was worth fighting for."

His words stir my thoughts and bring me back to a very present reality. I shift closer to him and to the fire. "How did you know the Great Mistress?"

"She was a gift. For many years now, non-magics have been smuggled into my lands. Your white magic is the perfect blend of sorrow and hope, and a drug to my people, but only the wealthy can indulge."

I nod, knowing that blend all too well. Sorrow at not having magic, and hope that the bit we have will somehow be enough. "But she wasn't a non-magic. She was one of the most powerful seers and our leader."

"She was radiant," he says, a touch of wistfulness in his tone. "When she was brought to the king, she illuminated our hall. I'm sure he would've kept her for himself if he liked white magic, but he hates it. He feeds it to the people to keep them addicted and dependent on him. It's the only way he's kept himself relevant. Many have tried to overthrow him, but his control over the distribution of white magic keeps him in power." He lets out a breath. "Lara was a prize possession. He was pleased with my progress in training and as a gift for my impending ceremony, he gave her to me. He said she had enough power to last me for years. Most non-magics will be drained within six months."

I rest my head on my knees and shut my eyes against his words. Imagining all those girls chained in darkness and drained of the small amount of magic they had is an aching thought. Especially at the hand of those gnarled beasts from the bridge.

"At first I didn't want her. I was raised by my uncle, a scholar. He let me read books about your world, and the other realms. He had visited many of them as a child, before we were banished to the Nether. Even when he took on the darkness, he still had his memories. Those who don't know any better think all the other creatures are our enemy, but my uncle showed me the truth of what happened, the real history of our people. I couldn't hate anyone—well, perhaps our previous king. He was the one who started this whole mess."

An unsettling thought presses on my stomach. I moisten my lips, the coming words drying my throat. "So did you... drain her?"

He shakes his head, thankfully. "I didn't want to take of her magic, but not doing so would insult the king and his generous gift. He would've given her to another. I only took enough, but never enough to harm her. We talked, a lot. It was different reading about your world in books, but to actually hear someone talk of it was the real gift." His shoulders lower. "One night, while she told me of your world and of the work she was trying to do, I fell asleep. When I woke up, she was beside me, dead."

I grip my knees, stifling the hurt.

Roane reaches into his inner pocket and retrieves a folded page and a ring that steals at my breath. It's a silver ring with a square signet, all four elements engraved onto the flat surface. Below it is the Convent symbol, and above it is a crown. It's the Great Mistress's ring. I'd think otherwise had Caleb not snuck me into his mother's vault to show it to me, to slip it onto my finger vowing that one day it would be mine.

He presses it a moment, and exhaling, hands the letter and ring to me. "She left me this."

I take them from him and setting the ring on my lap, I open the letter. My joints numb with each unfolded flap, and at seeing the delicate curvature of her words, the page pixelates and the words smear as though my tears have already washed over the ink on the page.

Dear Roane,

In this place, so dark and full of more evil that I ever wish upon anyone, I have seen more clearly than I have my entire life. You may not understand this now or what I have done, but remember all we spoke of and let my words and magic be your company and guide out of this darkness.

Do not let the mistakes of those before you blind you to the light that awaits you outside of this void. Too long have the leaders of our realms suffered from blindness, making mistake after mistake, harming those around them and those who depend on them, whatever their reasons.

I think of Finvarra and how desperate he must have been at seeing the woman he loved dying. Desperate enough to go against his teachings and ask your old king to build her a mechanical heart. But regardless of his reasons, he suffered his punishment.

I think of your old king and how angry he must have been at the unfair treatment of the Trolls, always considered second to the faeries. Angry enough to fill the heart with black magic and create a monster. But he, too, suffered his punishment.

And this is where it must end.

Children are paying for the crimes of their fathers, and it must stop. New leaders are coming into power all across the realms, and with this new leadership, I pray for new minds, eyes, and hearts.

It is why I have given you my essence, my power, my life. With it, you can cross into the other realms and see the beauties those worlds have to offer. Make memories to blight out the darkness. Live and discover the light waiting out of the Nether, a light I hope you will both champion and fight for.

With all of my blessings and magic,

Lara

"She poured her essence into you so you could continue on with her fight." Lowering the letter, I swallow the knot in my throat and all thoughts of Caleb, blink back my tears, and whisper a blessing to her life. I hand him back the letter.

He eases back to me. "I think she'd want for you to have it."

I slip the ring onto my finger, determined to return it to Caleb and run my sleeved hand along my tears. Lara would not have wanted them.

"I'm sorry," Roane says, his eyes downcast.

"She knew what she was doing. She never would have walked into the darkness had she not intended on sacrificing her life for this." I pick up the journal from beside me and slip the letter inside. "I'm beginning to think she had quite the vision. This all seems so big, and years in planning." I flick through the journal. For so many months, I'd stared at it and felt it full. It had been, only I couldn't see it. "I hope I'm big enough for this."

"We'll have to be." He stokes the flames one last time and throws the stick aside. "You rest and I'll keep watch."

A thought hits me. I stand, gather his tossed branch, and walk a few feet where I begin writing a protection spell in a circle around us.

"What are you doing?" he asks from behind me.

"A protection circle. If we're to stay here tonight, we need some safeguard." I script every spell I remember from lessons. "With the Great Mistress's magic powering the spell, we won't have to worry for a few hours. No one from this realm will be searching for her power source. It's perfect. We'll be invisible within the circle in case anyone or anything comes. We don't know what's in these woods."

"Like spiders?"

I narrow my eyes at him to which he smiles, a new and mischievous smirk that crinkles the sides of his eyes and makes him seem happy and normal, as if things were normal. As if we're normal. I continue on with the spell and let the smile linger, clutching onto this slight of normalcy.

Once done, I retrace my steps and confirm I've written each symbol correctly. Finding my way back to start, warmth gathers in my chest and I smile. It's nice to know I haven't forgotten what I learned, and that I hadn't been too busy daydreaming of Caleb to actually learn something in Potions and Spells.

"You should be able to trigger them by simply touching them. Your magic hooks onto the symbols. Then it's about letting your power flow into it, to create a connection," I say, reciting my Potions and Spells teacher. Truthfully, I don't know what it feels like.

Roane kneels beside me and stares at the inscriptions in a thoughtful silence. "Give me your hand." He extends a hand to me, brown eyes fixed on mine. "You drew them, you should give them power."

Small fires are reflected in his stare, the same flame shading his extended hand in amber. I curl my fingers into my sleeves. "You know I don't have enough power for it," I say, knowing exactly what he's offering.

"I do. I can Share it with you."

The lure to Share is strong, just as it always is when Caleb asks if I want to Share in his powers. But, I clutch my fists tighter. "We can't. Sharing magic is...intimate."

His brows furrows. "How so? It wasn't intimate when we've Shared before."

"Well, a conscious Sharing of magic. What we did was small and by mistake. To power these symbols goes beyond that. To have someone's magic flow through every part of you, invading every inch of your being is... big." I straighten and dust off my jeans. "Temporary bonds are formed and lines might get crossed that shouldn't. I just... I'd rather not."

"I get it," he says, standing. "You don't want to betray your boyfriend. Lara mentioned her son was with a non-magic."

"He's not my boyfriend, and I never let him Share with me." I look down at the symbols. "We needed to be everything other than magic."

He holds his hand out to me again. "Then this is harmless, right? Just take what you need. I'll guide you through it."

My conscience accuses me, says that Sharing with Roane betrays Caleb. For so long he's asked me to Share, and yet I always deny him. The mere thought of his power coursing through me steals at my breath and I clutch my hands tighter. What I experienced at the bridge was beautiful and perfect, and a reminder of why we couldn't ever be together. Sharing with a stranger causes blurred lines. But what about with someone with whom there are no lines? Someone who knows you, body and soul? No. Caleb and I couldn't ever Share. Beyond our boundary-less love, there's only oblivion.

But Roane isn't Caleb. With Caleb there were real feelings, emotions hard enough to tame without having to get magic involved. With Roane there are no feelings, and it's only a little bit of magic. I can control a little magic...

I relax my hand and slip it out of my sleeve. Swallowing, I reach out and slide my hand into Roane's. Our connection from before restores itself instantly. I haul in a long, deep breath through my nose and the dampness of the forest fills my lungs. Even in the dark, the leaves seem to bleed green, vibrant. The flames also sway with less conviction, as if waiting for me. If I tried to bend them, to shape them to my will, I know I'd be able to.

I kneel down beside Roane, his hand still in mine. His touch is warm and that heat trickles into me like little currents of electricity. It makes me shiver and sprouts goosebumps on my skin.

"You feel me?" he asks softly. Meeting his stare, I nod, but our connection leaves me breathless. I feel I can fall into his eyes, into him forever. I force my gaze down to the symbols. Their edges dance with light as if doused with glitter. Aunt Sabana once told me that's how Magics see the world, edged in light.

Touching the first inscription, I suck in a breath as heat shoots to my fingertips. The damp earth also jolts me with a current of warmth, hooking onto mine. Instinctively, I block the connection and my fingertips begin to burn. Roane's hand tightens on mine and he shifts closer, steadying me.

"Open yourself to that energy, you have to trust it," he says. The low current of his voice is a humid cloud that warms my skin and opens each pore, allowing for magic to enter me. I don't trust magic, but I find that I do trust him.

Enclosed in this warmth that bleeds out from him and into me, I shut out all thought and focus on that steady flow. We fall into a rhythm, where our hearts beat the same, our breaths pulse in synced waves. In and out. In. Out. More and more of his magic fills me and pools at my core, clenching my stomach with the need for release.

Roane slides a hand around my waist and presses on my stomach a little. "You feel it here, right?"

I nod, barely, not wanting to be disturbed from this paradox of right and wrong.

His palm spreads on my core. "Now, imagine it spilling from your fingertips, as if the earth is dying and you want to fill it with your life."

I relinquish control and the pull of the earth clenches my stomach. I heave, as if falling from great heights.

"Whoa, whoa," Roane says, with a light laugh. There's a hitch in the magic as he blocks it from me. "Just a little, slowly. You're sharing your energy with the earth, not giving it away completely. Sync it to your heart, to your breath. It's a connection, like ours, but it will drain you if you don't control it."

He opens himself to me again and my skin tingles as if it had fallen asleep. It awakens to a world where the wind brushes past as sheets of translucent color and to the sound of sleigh bells. Imagining the burn at my fingers to be blood, I let it pour from me. The first symbol fills with thick light as if gold lava, and pools over into the next inscription. One by one, the ciphers ignite until all the symbols are filled. The gilded hue illuminates Roane and I, blighting out the darkness around us.

Roane pulls back our hands. Bit by bit, the magic seeps into the earth until only the symbols remain, glittering in gold. I laugh a broken sound, a mix of joy and sadness. After so many years, now I know what it feels like to use real magic, even if it's only borrowed.

Gazing up to Roane, to his pale skin glowing in the light of his magic, my laugh fades. He looks at me, too, and something strums within me. His arm is still wrapped around my waist, his hand firm at my core. With our bodies pressed against each others and our faces inches apart, the lure of a kiss is suffocating. Our synced breaths cloud around us, as if to provide a veil for an illicit kiss. The need burns at the surface of my skin but my heart pounds, and I tear my hand out of his.

"That's enough," I say, dusting my hands on my jeans and standing. My hands tremble and my joints feel weak. I move away from him and an aching loneliness slams into me. My skin feels strange, cold and clammy. It's his magic calling to him, wanting to join with its source. I've read of it happening. That's when lines are usually crossed, when the need becomes too much.

I force myself forward, fisting the sleeves of my sweatshirt to still my hands. "We shouldn't have done that."

"It's normal what you feel," he says, straightening. "My magic within you wants to come back to me. It'll go away in a few hours. You did nothing wrong."

If he knew how badly I wanted that kiss, he'd think I was wrong. Wiping my face, I move away a bit more. If only he wasn't so understanding. I kneel by the duffel bag and set out the vials we have left to take inventory. Cleaning always helps me keep my mind busy. I set aside the journal which he promptly picks up. Good. Whatever will keep him busy and away from me.

"What's this?" he asks.

The sound of his voice magnifies the burn in my veins. "What's what?" I look up to see him holding up the folded reassignment form. "Nothing," I start, but it's too late. The reassignment form is open in his hands, the words exposed for him to read. A dip forms between his eyes.

"You were leaving?"

"Something like that." I snatch the page from his hand and toss it into the fire. As the edges curl, it's as though the weight on my shoulders also burns away. That paper was supposed to have freed me from my pain, but all if would have brought was more pain and ruin and death.

Roane hums pulling me from thought. "I never took you for a runner. You don't seem like the type."

"Excuse me?"

"You're running away."

I scoff. "You don't know what you're talking about. I was leaving because it was best. I have nothing left in Exeter."

He sits back and stares at me for a quiet moment. "You're angry."

"I'm..." I blow out a breath. It's not his fault he's right. I was running, and it makes me sick to my stomach to think of everything that would have happened had I run. "I'm not angry at you."

"I mean you're angry at magic." He sits a distance away by the fire, but not too far. I know he feels it too, the need to be near me, to be joined with his magic again. "You love it, but you're angry at it. It was all I felt within you. I still feel it."

"And let me guess, you think I shouldn't be?" I scoff. "You sound just like everyone else. They think I should get over it."

I rearrange the vials, though they're already in neat rows. "I come from a line of Magics. I was top of my class, voted most likely to become Great Mistress. I spent endless nights practicing my craft for when my powers came, for when it was time to defend Magic, I could. Yet, when Crossing happened, Magic rejected me." My hands pause over Lara's journal. A part of me knows this is all fate. Maybe if I'd come into my powers, I never would have met Roane, never would be on this quest. Still, it hurts. "It took all of those years I sacrificed to it and threw them in my face while taking away everything that was important to me. So am I angry?' Picking up the journal, I toss it into the duffel bag. "Yes, I'm furious."

Roane looks at me, but doesn't say anything. Maybe I was a bit harsh. I sit back against the log behind me and weave my hands into my hair. "I'm sorry. I just... I am angry." I drop my hands, exhausted. "I've been angry for a long time."

Standing, Roane comes over and sits beside me. I wish he wouldn't have, but at the same time, I can't move away.

"I've been in darkness all of my life," he says. "It's all I saw. I know every emotion tied to it, and I see it in you. You have all the right in the world to be angry, but don't let it consume you or you'll be no better than those trolls on the bridge, just prettier." He gives me a little smile.

Sadly, he's right. I have grown colder since my Crossing, meaner. It's painful to admit I sometimes hurt Caleb simply because I can. Bringing my knees to my chest, I rest my chin onto them and look at the flames. How did I miss it happening?

"So you and Caleb..." Roane asks, draping his jacket over me. It's a nice gesture, but the cold is brutal and dry and it cuts through the leather and cloak as if they don't exist.

"Yeah, well, we were, but then Crossing happened and then we weren't." I curl further into myself.

Roane inches over. "I'm much warmer, come."

"I'm fine..." I start, but when his hand comes onto my back, I'm as good as ice and melt against him. Being near him appeases his magic that still flows through me, and I'm able to relax a little.

We sit in silence for some time, our breathing falling into a synced rhythm.

"You don't just stop being a thing, you know?" he says against my hair. "Especially if what you had with him was a good thing."

"It was, but," I shrug, "everything happened at once and next thing I knew, we had fallen apart, too. His mother went missing; his uncle took over power and made sure we were never around each other, though Caleb always found a way to me." I lower my eyes. "Only I was too into my own pain to realize it."

He nods, like so many have before him, but for once I know he understands, truly understands what I feel. For the first time in a long time, I don't feel so alone.

"Darkness will take everything away if you let it," he says over my hair. "Don't let it."

"Okay," I say, hoping it isn't too late.  

Thank you so much for reading (and for your patience)! Please vote and comment if you enjoyed the chapter :)