The Legend of the Eight: The Hunted (Book 5)

Epilogue: The Shadow Prince

EPILOGUE: THE SHADOW PRINCE

IT WAS DARKER THAN HE remembered it and that was worth a laugh or two given the company he was about to keep. When he walked, he heard gravel crunch under his boots and above him, wind whipped his buttery blonde curls around like a turbine. It was cold, too. And wet. Like a storm was on its way in but never actually came.

He walked across this dark, barren land towards the large estate which could be seen for miles in all directions. The Manor.

He'd been there before though under far different circumstances. This time, it was his choice. It was his decision to come here. And that made all the difference in the world.

When he reached the Manor, the iron gate around it was slightly open, like someone had just come through there. He pushed it further and walked up the path to an extravagant entrance. He thought about knocking only to snicker to himself. This didn't seem like the kind of place where traditional manners were expected.

It was easy to get there. The Veil had been down for months since the explosion and there were enough holes to jump through, the only challenge was picking one.

His footsteps bounced off the tall walls inside the Manor and the echoes grew louder the further he walked. Maybe he should have been quieter. He didn't want to give away his presence too soon. At the end of the hall, he heard voices—the ones that haunted his nightmares—and he walked towards them. He didn't have a plan—not in the traditional sense—but he knew wherever those voices led, he needed to go.

He followed the voices to a large door stretching at least twenty feet high and stopped on the other side of it. The voices inside were arguing. Some laughed. There was a chorus of shouts and then one louder than all the rest. The room fell silent. He swung the doors open and in the room, upwards of a hundred Darks turned to stare.

His first thought was to run. Run far and run fast. He was a skinny boy but he was fast. He could outrun a few of them but eventually he'd tire and they'd catch up. Then he thought about conjuring a curse—if there was even a curse powerful enough to subdue a room full of Dark Wizards—but before he could, a man at the front of the room stood up and glared at him.

"Would you look at that?" An evil smirk twisted its way onto his face. "It looks like we've got a visitor. You've saved me the trouble of fetching you myself, son."

"Son?" The room roared with whispers, speculating the mysterious visitor and his connection to the great, vindictive Bartemius Thawne. Cam stood there at the door, taking in the scene. And then he cleared his throat.

"I know what I am. I know about my magic. And I know that you want it. So I've come to propose a deal to you."

Bartemius began to laugh—a deep, crackly laugh that sent chills running down Cam's spine. And then his dark eyes narrowed.

"Just what makes you think I'd be interested in any deal you have to make? Coming here was suicide, boy."

"It's only suicide if I die," countered Cam with a knowing look in his navy eyes. Then he folded his arms across his chest. "And in order for me to do what has to be done, dying is exactly what I intend to do."

To be continued...