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The nightmares haunted me worse than the dream weaver. So many of them, so many different times, different people, different voices—but they all told me the same thing: do not use your magic. Do not ever use your magic, child. Whatever you do, stay as far away from them as you can.
It crumbled, the darkness, like it had been liquid and then in the heat of that blue light, it dried up and broke and was reduced to ashes as it slowly revealed my room underneath it… And Shade. Shade was on the floor, choking on thin air, eyes black and the skin around his eyes the same color.
“Peter was already causing trouble since he was a kid. His father, my uncle’s best friend since childhood, died at a very young age and basically left him in charge of the kid. He crashed his car into a statue one night because he was high and drunk when driving. He died on the spot.”
“Yes, Snowflake. He stabbed me, and then my father tried to save me, so he put his godstone in my back. Right on the knife wound, as deep inside me as he could push it. Then I passed out, and the opal on my back absorbed my magic, stored it inside it. My father was in a coma for three months. He never really recovered. He died two years later.”
“A little birdie told us about the deal you made with the goddess,” Nick said with a grin. He looked so different from the boy he had been a year ago. They both did—I wasn’t the only one who’d changed so completely. “We wouldn’t have made it without you,” Ethan told me, and it was all I could do not to burst into tears when I took the flowers.
the ruby around Carmine’s neck was about to fucking blind us with that blinking red light. She raised her finger toward me from the podium, looking more an animal, a lioness, than human. “Grab her!” she hissed, and a second later, Brons were entering the open double doors like they’d materialized out of thin fucking air.

