Burnt Devotion (Imdalind, #5)(56)

Warnings that came louder than I would have liked.

“I can’t find him, Ilyan,” Wyn said, her body tensing as if she was preparing for the doors to open and a battle to begin. “There is something different, but it’s a long way off.”

“Siln??”

I swallowed once as I met his gaze, my insecurities bubbling for only a moment before my jaw squared, and my magic surged in heat and excitement, as if the power itself had heard him and was ready to answer.

I felt a pulse of Ilyan’s magic surge, his lips twitching as he let his power move through our bond, the heat a heady reminder of support and love. I couldn’t stop the smile that spread over my face as the heat grew, as my fingers flexed, and as Ilyan’s voice filled my mind.

Find him, my love. If anyone can find him, it will be you.

I knew it was true as much as he did. My heart picked up as my magic bubbled to life, the excitement growing as if Ilyan’s words had been all that was needed to open the floodgates.

Ilyan’s magic melded with mine, the power seamlessly blending together as I closed my eyes and let the magic spread away from me.

I could still hear the excited babble of the people beyond the gates, feel the calm and the enjoyment of the crisp fall day of the mortals as they shopped in the markets. They went about their day to day life as if nothing was happening other than the threat of rain the weather forecaster had given them on the news that morning.

I moved through the city streets with eyes that took in every detail. The white washed stone walls, the ancient statues, the ruddy brown of the river—I saw it all.

My heart beat faster as I recognized many of the buildings from my sight, saw the red shingled roofs of the old town. Except, it was different.

There was no fire. There was no screaming. It was a city before the sight had come, a city as I had never seen it before.

It was beautiful.

Or it would have been if it wasn’t for the odd pull that was laced behind the laughter underneath the sunny cobbled streets. Something lived underneath the joyful exterior, something that only increased my fear.

It was different than the rancid magic of the Vil?s, different than the pained swells of the earth I had felt when flying through the trees in Spain. It was a thing so raw and vile that it twisted through me. It was the pockets of fear that hid in abandoned buildings and the rippling agony that slithered through the sewers.

I gasped as the tension moved into me, my muscles twisting in anxiety that should have been a warning to stop. However, I couldn’t. I needed to know where Edmund was, and more than that, I needed to know what was coming. How true my sight had been.

If it had been.

I pushed my magic farther, away from the center of town, away from the towering doors we were all clustered behind. The more I pushed, the worse the plague of fear grew. The more my magic buckled underneath it.

It crept into my soul with the same agitated fury I had felt in Spain, the pressure and fear seeming to grow within me until I reached the forest that surrounded the sprawling city along with the surges of magic that grew and swelled amongst the trees and farms that were clustered there.

I knew I was close. I could feel the faint throb of Edmund’s power now. I could feel his hatred. I could feel the black tar of his magic where it had leeched into the soil and poisoned it.

I continued to push, letting my magic trail after the ripples of power that I felt, but the farther I stretched, the weaker the fingers of my power became, until it was only wispy shadows that retreated back into me like a tape measure. I panted as I fell to my knees.

My vision snapped back to the cave with a heave of breath, my inhales shaking as I desperately tried to fill my lungs with air that seemed foreign and forgotten.

Wyn’s hands were on my back before I even had a chance to focus on the uneven floor my fingers were spread against. Ilyan’s magic flooded every inch of me as his shoes tapped loudly against the floor in a desperate need to reach me.

He sunk to the ground before me, his hands shaking as he reached toward me. Even though his face was stoic and calm, I could feel his worry leech through our connection, my injury from Spain still weighing heavily on his mind.

“Was it a sight?” Dramin said from beside me, his voice weak as it echoed around the cave.

“No,” I gasped, my eyes still not leaving the concern in Ilyan’s face. “I found him.”

“Where?” The concern on Ilyan’s face vanished almost instantly, albeit I could still feel it tense through his body.

“There is a forest that begins near the farms that surround the towns…” I began, hoping it was enough to explain. I wasn’t familiar enough with the city to know how to begin, and I had a feeling saying, ‘In the mud by a farm with tomatoes and funny looking cows,’ wasn’t going to cut it.

Thankfully, Ilyan seemed to understand. He released a tense breath with a sigh, his hand wrapping around my elbow as he helped me back to standing.

I’m fine, Ilyan, I added silently, grateful when the tension in his shoulders lessened a bit.

I know, he said with a laugh, the joy on his voice disappearing with the next question. What else did you see? What did you feel?

I wasn’t foolish enough to hide anything from him, despite being uncertain what the dread that filled the city was. Besides, his magic had been there right alongside mine. I was sure he had felt it, too.

Fear, I said, hoping it would be enough yet knowing it wouldn’t. Not in the mortals, but in something else that was inside the city, something that was hiding.