Spring Rain (The Witchling #4)(37)

“Like Summer’s trial standing between the Darkness and everything else,” he said. “Morgan’s trial determines what happens to the Light.”

Yes.

“I always knew my father was special, too.”

He is. Incredibly powerful to balance your mother.

Beck bit back the urge to ask what Morgan’s trial really was but knew Sam was never going to reveal it to him. “Sam, there has been no Light fire witchling in five hundred years.” Raw desperation seeped into his thoughts.

This era is where the paths of Light and Dark are decided. Your generation determines whether the Darkness continues to grow unchecked or whether the Light can survive and grow. Decker is in place, as is Summer. You are as well, which leaves the final piece of the puzzle.

“You can rationalize it all you want, but it’s so frustrating! And nowhere near fair! The fate of the universe right here!” Beck climbed to his feet and stretched his stiff legs. “No pressure, Beck.”

You aren’t alone, Sam said and stood as well.

“I have you, of course.”

And others.

Beck hesitated to agree. There were things Decker couldn’t do as the Master of Dark, including setting foot on campus. “You mean in general?”

Morgan.

“Yeah. About that.” He rubbed his rough goatee and absently admitted it was in need of a trim. “I don’t have her until she’s Light and until we find another way to safeguard the stone without threatening the Light. And this and that and everything else.”

You are so dramatic. Sam was chortling again.

Beck rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

A subtle thrum went through him, originating from the earth beneath his feet. He looked down and cocked his head to the side. “Come on and show me what it is,” he told the earth and closed his eyes to focus.

At times, it sent him images, usually too disjointed for him to understand fully. It had once tried to warn him about the soul stone, and it took him several days to figure it out.

But over the past few months, the messages became clearer. The thrum was like the vibration of a spider web when a fly hit it: faint yet exacting to the spider that knew what it meant. The image in his mind raced through the forest towards the source of the disturbance.

Beck mentally watched, the rush of the chase flooding him. He grew aware of the earth’s magick building beneath him and the Light crackling between his fingertips.

“Whoa,” he breathed when the magick’s sprint stopped suddenly enough for him to wobble off balance.

You are the Light, Beck. Do not fight what is part of you. Trust that it is strong enough to help you.

He released a breath and surrendered to the unnerving sensation of traveling without moving. The image took shape once more and this time, he trusted Sam and didn’t resist as the line between him and the Light blurred. It was a little scary to let go of himself and float, but it also felt natural, and he knew he was safe.

He looked around, present yet not, where the Light had taken him to check out the warning. Dark witchlings stood in the gravel driveway leading from the main road through the sleepy town to the boarding school. They were outside the barrier protecting the Light, unable to move closer. Darkness gathered like black fog at their feet as each of them summoned magick to attack the Light and school.

Beck’s eyes snapped open, and he was jarred back into his body. “I have to go, Sam!” he exclaimed and summoned his magick to carry him there.

Sam’s warning stopped him. You are the Master of Light. You can use lethal force when necessary. But I beseech you, Beck, to never do so, to let your brother handle the Darkness while you protect the Light within you. It is too easy to follow the path into the Dark.

“I understand. I think.” Beck didn’t know what he was going to do, but he wasn’t about to let an entire school of sleeping Light witchlings get killed or hurt in the middle of the night, either.

Decker was more sensitive to the Dark than he was. If his brother wasn’t on his way, he would be soon.

The Light is powerful. Trust it.

Beck’s magick swept him away, and he reemerged behind the shield facing the Dark witchlings, each of whom stood in the center of a hastily drawn pentagram. Their Darkness was butting up against the invisible wall, eliciting sparks from the Light as it did so. He counted ten of them, probably sympathetic to Dawn’s cause, if not her minions. Two spirit, three water, four air, and one earth. There were only two fire witchlings he knew about, aside from his brother and mother. One was Morgan and the other, a lackey of Dawn’s probably in hiding with her. He recognized some faces while those of others were too old for him to have gone to school with.

He assessed the shield. It was surprisingly strong, supplied directly by the Light source beneath the school that also ran through his body and out into the world. His connection to the Light was more solid than ever after working with Sam this evening. He didn’t know what to contribute the newfound sense to, aside from the fact it almost felt like the Light accepted him where they both had kept their distance from one another before.

That’s it, he thought, intrigued by the idea he’d feared using or hurting the Light so much so that he’d been unable to let it into him fully. He no longer had to ask it to come to him; it flowed unbidden through him, entangled with his earth magick. Fleeting joy sparked within him as he realized what it meant.