Another day's travel brings us four nights away from the human realm. I settle back onto my knees and watch Roane's magic seep into the earth, powering the protection symbols. If there's one thing he's insisted on is me activating the protection spells. He says we're in this together, and as such, his magic is mine as well. I can navigate them with more ease now. The first few days, they felt heavy in my stomach, but now I'm able to control the tightness and burn, and the lingering need to be near Roane once the magic has settled.

"So this is what it feels like when you take on the darkness?" I slip my hand from his. "That queasiness in the pit of your stomach?"

Roane nods. "Only it's a lot worse than a stomach ache. I shared once with someone after she'd turned, just to see what it would feel like when I took it on. It paralyzed me for a few days, and I couldn't shake the nightmares, the voices and screams for weeks." He shakes his head. "I never want that, and if the king would allow for our people to be educated, I'm sure they wouldn't want it either."

I ease close beside him. "Why doesn't he let them choose?"

"He's bitter and angry. It's consumed him and he won't allow for any light."

I lower my eyes to my hands, remembering his words from a few nights before. I'd been letting my darkness block out all light. But I'm ready to let it back in. It's thoughts of Caleb that bolster me, help me resist Roane after we Share. It's as if the closer we get to Convent, the more I can feel Caleb. Through all these barriers of magic, I sense him and wonder if he feels me, too. But remembering the explosion at the store, I know he doesn't. He thinks I'm dead.

Roane thumbs through the journal. From beside him, I follow along. Everything the sprites told us is reiterated, from every message sent to each kingdom to all of the maps of their worlds. It was obvious Lara planned on going to each of these kingdoms, a testament to her faith that the realms could be reconciled. After pages of maps and notes on each kingdom, their customs, and the messages sent, we reach the last page and my heart sinks.

"I wish she would have written who she suspected was trying to stop her. If I'd had known she was in danger, I would have helped somehow..." I let out a sigh.

"Maybe she didn't know and was protecting you. When did she give you the journal?"

"A few weeks before she vanished."

He nods. "The sprites said she was scared for her life and that someone wanted to kill her. She had run out of time. Maybe she didn't know who it was that wanted her dead until it was too late. She had already given you the journal. At least that was safe. Contacting you could have been dangerous."

I sigh, weaving my hands into my curls. "That means Caleb isn't safe either." The thought of any harm coming to him is like a stab in the heart. I turned him down continuously, yes, but selfishly, I always knew he would return, knew he would find a way back to me. But to imagine existing in a world without him leaves me without air.

"I'm sure Caleb can take care of himself," Roane says, as though sensing my worry. "But I've been thinking. You did well with Baskus, but if you ever need to meet a bridge troll head to head, things will be much different. You may not always have your blade, and I may not always be there to help you."

"So what are you saying?"

"Up." He walks out into the clearing beside the fire. "Ideally, I'd want for you to evade and run, but you may still need to fight."

I stare at him there, and for a moment, I can't remember what we're talking about. The amber hues of the flames dance along him, and like the fire, he is equally dangerous...and beautiful.

"We'll start with some evasive maneuvers, and move on from there. Now, punch me and pay attention."

"I'm not punching you." I chuckle, but he's dead serious. "Fine, but I can fight."

I clench my fists the way Aunt Sabana taught me—another one of her lessons when the first non-magic was kidnapped— and I punch him...or at least I intended to. One moment, my fist is about to meet his arm. The next, I'm hovering over the ground, my wrist in his hand as he keeps me from falling completely.

He yanks and pulls me upright. "Did you see how I did that?"

I arch a brow. "Seriously? You're like a shadow when you move."

His lips dip to a frown. "Again Aramina, and focus this time."

I punch again. This time he grips my wrist and slowly, pulls me forward while simultaneously kicks the back of my foot, which causes me to tip backwards.

He pulls me back up. "Like that. Now you try."

I sigh and clench my fist, knowing this is going to be one hell of a long night.

We spend the evening going over stances and movements, stabbing and slicing. I force myself to pay attention, but watching Roane is an experience in itself. Illuminated by a full moon, he weaves in and out of light and shadow, showing me attacks and evasions. He moves fluidly, as one with the night and his weapons. Fighting is in his blood, and it's gorgeous to witness.

"Now, protect yourself against me," he says. Part of me doesn't want to, but he rushes me, and I duck, rolling out of the way. He says trolls have a nasty habit of ramming into their opponent, so I must use this to my advantage.

He swipes at me with a thick branch we're using for practice, but it may as well be a club. I arch back, and it misses me by a hair. Pushing up, I slice down and clip his arm with the branch. He spins, catching my side. I wince at the wood that digs into me. The pain spreads like fire through my veins.

"You hesitate, you die. Combat is fast," he says. "You cut me, you get out of the way, quickly and look for your next chance at a shot. You have to think about what you're going to do, but also of how your opponent will react. Now, again." His voice is harsh, but I know he means well. Had that been a real club and he a bridge troll, I would've been dead.

Night falls, and we still practice. I've improved, and am much better when armed. Hand to hand combat, however, leaves me slamming against the ground more times than I like. Roane has taught me how to block punches, and is unforgiving when I miss.

I crash before the fire, covered in bruises and with a bleeding lip. "I think my rib is broken."

He kneels down beside me and reaches for my rib. I swat his hand away, but he catches my wrist. I arch a brow to which he smiles. "Never turn your back on an opponent."

I straighten my leg sharply and knock him off balance. My hand still in his hold, so when he falls back, he pulls me forward. I use the momentum, lunge onto him, and straddle him.

Pulling the blade from my belt, I press the tip at his neck. "Never underestimate them, either."

Roane grins and lowers his eyes. When I look down, he too has a blade in his hand, its tip poking into my sweater. He rolls me over in one fluid move and pins my wrist over my head, holding his blade at my neck. "You're right."

I release my dagger to the ground, accepting defeat. "I'm never going to beat you, am I?"

"It's not about beating me." He shifts his weight off of me. My stomach still clenches a little when he moves away. "It's about staying alive, and you did. Barely, but you did."

He reaches a hand out to me to help me stand. I'm not prepared for his strength and when he pulls, I crash against his chest. From so close, I see I nicked his neck. I reach out to the cut, but end up trailing my finger along the tattoo of a serrated knife there. "How can I get one of these?"

"You don't." He steps back from me. Picking up his shirt, he turns it inside out. "It's not something you want."

"Yes it is. I have one dagger. If it falls, then I have nothing."

"Then you better not drop it, right?" He goes to put on his shirt, but no doubt sensing my scowl, he sighs and lowers it. "The outline of whatever weapon we master is cut into our skin." He outlines the ax that's tattooed over his oblique. "The weapon is then heated and pressed onto the mark, and black magic is used to blend them into our being. That kind of pain..." He shakes his head. "You don't want it."

I shiver at his words, but curious. I near him. Tentatively, I reach for the tattoo, but retract my hand. "Can I?"

He swallows visibly, then nods. I don't know if he minds, but I meet him the rest of the way. Lifting a hand to his bare skin, I let out a breath at the feel of him. To be honest, I've wanted to explore his map of tattoos since the first day I laid eyes on him. I trail his path of weapons, from the daggers marking his abs, to the swords etched into his back. His skin is soft, but his body is sculpted and hard, and such a perfect example of who he is, a mix of kindness and strength.

I journey his arms, smoothing them along the shurikens that mark his shoulders. Two swords take up his back, vanishing under his pants. Coming around, I follow the metal chain that runs along his hips.

"They're amazing," I say, continuing my trip along each link. Too rapt by the blades, I suck in a breath when he takes hold of my wrist. He exhales weightily, tense, and I realize I'm dangerously close to his belt.

Blushing, I retract my hand. "Sorry..."

"It's fine," he says, and slips his shirt over his head.

I watch the tattoos vanish under his black shirt and make up my mind. "I want one." I hand him my dagger. "Blend it into me."

"You're crazy, Aramina. I'm not—"

"Please, Roane. If we're fighting and I lose it, I can't wait until you're done saving yourself to come and help me. We were lucky the last time. There was just one left and I still had my weapon. We may not be so lucky the next time."

He considers this for half a millisecond. "No. It's painful, not to mention it takes time to heal."

"Then you Share with me and help me heal faster."

He stares at me, and I know what he thinks. The amount we've been Sharing is minimal compared to what will be needed to heal me. Whatever gray lines we'd straddled in our time together would vanish under layers of magic and confusion. But we're close to Caleb, and I know I can find my way back.

"Please," I say.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

I extend the dagger to him as my answer.

He closes his eyes a minute and shakes his head. "Where do you want it?"

Wistfully thinking of the summertime and bikinis, I opt for the back of my neck. I can always hide it with my hair.

He eases my dagger back to me. "Save your dagger. I can't use it. It's been blessed by white magic."

"Why does that matter?"

"It's painful, and it's that pain black magic hooks onto. A blessed blade negates that. Darkness can't do what it has to to get the blade to stay. It can't touch it and in turn can't touch you." He opens his palm. In a brush of black smoke, a dagger materializes at his hand. It has a black snakeskin handle and the blade is curved. At his forearm, the tattoo of an identical blade is gone. "After all of this is said and done, you can bless this blade and negate its black magic, but for now, leave it as is or it will never enter you."

I look at all the bigger weapons marking his arms and frown. "It's so small..."

"And easier to handle. Chances are if we're caught, they won't kill you right away. They'll bank on you being scared since you're human. Use that to your advantage. When they get close enough, this will be your best ally," he says, holding up the dagger. I turn around and hope to heaven it is.

Knotting my hair on top of my head, I sit before him and wait. My heart drums against my ribcage, anxiety lodging a fist in my stomach. What am I doing?

"Are you sure about this, Aramina?"

His hesitation spurs my pulse and fear, but I turn my head down into my knees. "Pain now or death later. I'll take the pain now."

He seems to empty out with a sigh. "Alright." He plucks at my sweater and cuts through my panic. "This needs to come off. The dagger is going to go down past your shoulder blades."

Great. Flushing, I peel the sweater off. The cold nips my skin instantly, but my blush wars against it. I don't want to know what it looks like to a passerby—not that we'll come across any. For self-preservation, I banish all thoughts of Caleb. If I think of him, guilt will force me to cower. I can' cower. For my life, I can't. For his, I won't.

Roane's hands come onto my back, and I tense.

"Relax, I haven't started yet," he says. "I need to unhook this, okay?" He touches the back of my bra.

I nod and bury my face into my knees while hugging myself to keep my bra from slipping off all the way. When he unhooks it, I hold on a little tighter. The straps slip off of my shoulders and a chill curls down my spine. Caleb is the only guy I've ever been with. The only guy who's seen me undressed and has touched me. My mind anchors onto this and I try to pretend. Pretend it's him behind me, gently brushing rogue hairs over my shoulder. It's impossible. Where Caleb's skin was a soft, his touch a debilitating thing, calluses add grit to Roane's touch and a strange fire remains after his hands are gone.

Roane puts a hand flush against my back. "Are you sure you want this?" he asks, just as gentle as his breath that skims my bare skin.

I unearth my head and look over my shoulder. "I trust you."

His mouth tightens, and nodding, he reaches for the dagger that's at my side and sets the blade in the fire. My stomach plummets to my feet. I bury my head in my knees again and brace.

His hand slips away.

My heart pounds.

I.

Scream.

Crush my nails into the heel of my palms. Grip my knees legs against my chest like a lifeline. A tearing sensation drags a sob out of me as he splits my skin open, outlining the blade into my skin with long cuts. Heat fills my head, a dizzying warmth that somehow sprouts cold beads of sweat along my skin and numbs my extremities.

He pauses. "We can stop now; I can heal you—"

"No, I asked for this," I rasp, reminding him, reminding myself. "I need this."

In spite of my words, he doesn't continue.

My neck feels rusted when I turn to glance over my shoulder. The image of him is rimmed in black, and sways before me. "Keep going."

Jaw clenched, he nods. I turn, crush my lips between my teeth. Stifle the cry gathering in my chest as he starts the torturous sketch on my back again while whispering words in a language I don't know. Wetness streams down my back, warm against the cold that now makes me shiver.

Finally, he retracts the blade. "I'm going to position the blade now. You can't move." His hand comes onto my shoulders. "This is going to hurt, Aramina. We can still stop."

Considering the pain I've experienced, the imminent agony should scare me. But with the image of the murdered non-magics fixed in my thoughts, I shake my head. "Do it."

"Okay," he says. "I'm sorry."

Before I can process the words, he presses the dagger onto my skin and the scream in my throat breaks free. It feels like small hooks curve onto my skin and dig deep as if fearing someone will yank them out. My blood curdling scream punctures my eardrums. White pain shoots through my veins and I claw at my legs, lost in the ache that tears me in half. I writhe as the dagger enters my back, like fingers tilling into my skin and spreading my shoulder blades.

In the black of my closed eyes, images overtake my mind. Bloodied faces float about like phantoms, asking to be spared—the lives the dagger had taken. Voices, urgent and pained, echo in my ears with the cries of those victims, their last pleas and prayers. Their last screams. Their last breaths.

My voice dries. I scream again, but there's no sound. Only pain. Roane gathers my body against him and holds me, whispering apologies against my tear stained cheeks. Warmth blankets me as he tries to Share, but the pain and darkness are blinding. The ghostly screams remain, and I not only hear them everywhere, their pain mounts onto my own. The dagger is a part of me now, and so are the memories ingrained into its blade. 

***

Maybe minutes have passed, maybe hours. The sun may still be shining or darkness may rule the sky. I don't know. My eyes remain closed, and all I know is that Roane holds me, Sharing, and never letting go. The pain has lessened but intermittent shivers shake my frame. My body recalls the ache, though I don't feel it. But it's hard to hold onto consciousness, and so I fall asleep, remembering the crimes of another.

Thanks for reading! Please vote and comment :)

I'm sorry for the long wait. As some of you know this is a rough draft. Once I started posting, I wanted to change a bunch of things and I just got stuck. So in order to post more frequently, I'm just going back to posting this first  version. Thanks so much for your support!