thunderstruck | book #2 | discontinued

X V I

Nil Lake. It was blacker than Hilda had ever imagined it to be. Her whole life, she had been fed all sorts of myths about it, about how dangerous it was, but the stories did not do it justice. Looking into it now was like looking into a bottomless pit. It was like looking into hell. That was not what scared her, though. What scared her, what made her feel sick to her blackened soul, was that it was like looking into a mirror image of her own eyes. She and the lake's waters were made of the same poison.

Tears streamed down her face as she stood on the edge of one of the highest cliffs. Her bare knees were bloody and raw from climbing, and her nails caked in dirt. None of it mattered. All of it would be gone in a few moments if that was what she chose.

She clutched onto the key, unable to let it go. She had relapsed, and this time it was worse than ever. She had not let go of the black metal for days, not even when she felt it pressing so hard into her palm that she could feel the skin break. Not even when her husband begged her to. It was the only thing she had to hold onto after the birth of Erika, and she would not let it go now. It was too late. She was too far gone.

She took another step, her toes hanging over the edge. She could feel the precise point on the soles of her feet where the cliff stopped touching them and the thin air began. Closing her eyes, she thought about how she was closer to the sky now than she had ever been before—and yet soon she would be closer to the ground than ever before, if she could do it. If she was brave enough.

Another tiny step was taken so that she was teetering on the edge. If she moved so much as an inch forward, it would be over now.

She took one last breath. Then, before she could jump, there was a voice coming from behind her.

"Come away from the edge, my love. You do not want to fall into the darkness."

Hilda would have laughed if she was not so numb. "I already have."

"There is light left in you yet." The voice belonged to a woman; that much was certain. Hilda did not turn around to confirm her theory. "If there was not, you would not be here. You would still be destroying everything around you, and enjoying it."

"I plan on destroying myself and enjoying it. Does that not count?" Hilda's red hair whipped across her damp face. There were no breezes anywhere else but here in Refilyn, and it was strange to feel oneself being carried by the wind. She wondered if it would wash her away completely, cell by cell, if she stood here for long enough.

"No." The voice paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, she sounded much closer. "Turn around, dear. Look at me."

Hilda shook her head, tightening her arms across her chest. "You will not change my mind."

"Then where is the harm in looking? Are you not brave enough to face the person trying to save you from yourself?"

Hilda obeyed, if only to quieten the person. She took a step back and turned, gasping when she saw the face to which the voice belonged. She knew this woman, had seen her a million times before in old books and paintings. She was the creator of everything—but how could that be possible? It must have been a spell, someone playing a trick on her. Hecate would not be here, trying to talk her from taking her life. She was not sure Hecate even existed anymore, for nobody had seen her in centuries.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I have many names. None of them matter now." The witch reached out an arm, her eyes the colour of Refilyn's midnight sky, complete with shards of gold like comets soaring through her irises. She had no pupils, and yet she could not be blind. "Step back, Hilda. I can help you."