I grip hold of the railing as the Shadow fastlines slither over my hands, my vision tinting more heavily gray while the terrible understanding descends.

It left me.

Because it knows I’m about to become a Shadow thing.

Vogel’s Black Witch.

Carved open by horror, I look toward the Vo Mountain Range.

The Prophecy is right, I realize, my pulse in my throat. Vogel is going to consume me, just like he’s consumed Lukas. And turn me into the Prophecy’s hellish Black Witch.

The last soft piece of me breaks off.

My mouth curls into a snarl as the memory of Lukas’s defiance rises up inside of me, burning bright.

Fine, I throw out toward the Wand as my mounting rebellion sparks into a firestorm.

I’ll fight Vogel without you.

I know I’ll likely have just this one chance before Vogel takes complete hold of both my magic and my mind.

And I’m going to take it.

Defiance blazing, I sprint into Or’myr’s dwelling, straight to his circular sorcery workroom, and scoop up every last wand in the room, the world shuddering gray as Vogel’s power begins to press down on my lines once more. Head arching back from the sudden pressure, I catch my own gaze in an amethyst-framed wall mirror, another flash of shock lancing through me.

Glowing silver encircles my irises.

Clear that my whole world has contracted into this one, blazing chance to wage war, grab hold of Lukas, and strike Vogel down, I race back out onto the balcony. Eyes fixing on the Vo Mountains, I pull my power’s aura into a tight ball then push the full, violent force of it behind one word, thrown into the air, out over the entire Eastern Realm.

Raz’zor!

Part Five

PART FIVE

Void Moon

CHAPTER ONE

SHADOW INVASION

Vothendrile Xanthile

Xishlon night, twenty-second hour

“We’re sparking,” Vothe teases as he presses his lips to the base of Trystan’s neck, the Vo’s purple-lit waves crashing against the rocks around them.

Trystan pulls Vothe into another deep kiss, his hand cupping the back of Vothe’s head, fingers woven insistently through Vothe’s hair as he throws a line of bright lightning through him that Vothe feels straight down his spine.

Vothe groans and shudders against Trystan, every muscle in his body rock-hard, a shower of visible sparks flying out from them both. “Holy Vo, you can kiss,” he manages, breathing heavily as his mouth curves into a smile, wanting this Mage more than he’s ever wanted anyone in his entire life.

Trystan’s shimmering green lips turn up, his forest eyes deep pools of pent-up desire. “You made it clear that a great deal of kissing is required of this courtship,” he murmurs, his voice hitching with a trace of nervous heat.

Vothe nods, completely under his spell. “It is...and tradition must be obeyed—”