Where the Light No Longer Follows (Blue Fairytales, #3)

by Wendy Heiss

Gabriel. Gabriel. Gabriel. Gabriel. Gabriel. Gabriel. “Please,” she finally whispered at the end of her silent spell. And the darkness answered. It answered for the first time ever. “I’m here” Silene sucked in a sharp breath, staring right ahead at the direction of that familiar voice despite not being able to see a thing. But she knew he could see her. “What was it, my beautiful demise?” he asked. Her voice was too small, too wounded by memories as she muttered, “Just a bad dream.” “What dares to worry you at night?” Hugging her knees to her chest, she whispered, “Memories.” “Shall I take them? Shall I wrench them away and gut them apart one by one?” “I don’t know what I am without them,” she admitted. “I don’t know what I am without the violence.” “You’re Silene. My beautiful Silene with the gentlest, kindest hands. It wasn’t the violence that made you gentle, my ruin, it wasn’t the violence that softened you. You were kind and soft and gentle despite it. You won over all. In spite of all, you won. They could not change you, nor your heart—your kind, gentle heart. And what they could not change they hurt. So let me take it away. Let me rip apart those memories for you.”