A price that is for only me to take. I sit her on my lap; life is drained from her face, and gold veins litter her skin from where her magic bled out of her. She shouldn’t have to pay for my sins; none of them should have to.
My mother, though, is the one I worry about having to face; how can she ever love me after knowing I am the reason for the death of the one child that is actually good, pure within herself?
Things can’t end this way; I can’t live with this void, forever lingering and haunting me for the rest of my life; live with the knowledge that she died for me; live without her. I will give it up for them. Before, I couldn’t see how much damage I was causing, stuck within myself. It is selfish. It is selfish to think I could control the very thing my mother and Astral tried to protect the world from; I now know that none of it is worth losing her or my family over.
For the first time, my mind is clear; the usual ramblings of the darkness creeping over me are now nothing but distant whispers of my insanity. Now, I have found a new purpose, a reason to give it up and not just for Amara.
I am unwilling to lose anyone else to it, not my family and not my daughter. Nothing is more important than her, not even my mates, and for her, I will give it up. It is like trading my unstable insanity for a new sense of clarity, and it gives me a new will to live, only it is too late for my sister. But I can do this one thing for her. Nothing has felt righter than this decision because I made it myself.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I look up my Aunt’s phone number and dial it.
I wait.
Excitement bubbles within me as I hope for the best. It’s something I haven’t held onto for the longest of times. The phone rings a few times until she finally picks it up and answers.
“Thaddeus?” she asks, not hiding her shock.
“Have you still got Astral’s grimoires?” I ask.
I just need to check one thing before proceeding; make sure I am correct, because I can’t have the darkness taint my little sister; she won’t be able to live with it.
“Yes, but you don’t need them; I know them word for word. What happened?” she asks as concern laces her words.
“Say someone dies, and I use my magic to bring them back. Will it taint them or just disintegrate when it hasn’t got a host to feed off?”
“What are you talking about, Thaddeus? Who died?”
“It doesn’t matter because I am bringing them back. Will it taint her or disintegrate back to the realm it came from?”
“It should disintegrate. What are you doing? Who died?” Her frantic voice screeches through the phone. “Thaddeus, I swear if you hurt Evelyn, I will kill you myself!” my aunt screams at me.
“It’s not Evelyn, Aunty B,” I tell her. I can’t leave her wondering.
“Who?”
“It’s Mara,” I tell her, using my sister’s nickname, which I used when I couldn’t pronounce her name properly when I was a boy.
I hear her gasp; a hiccuped sob leaves her. I wait, giving her a chance to register what I said, let it sink in. When she suddenly gasps loudly, I hear her rummaging around and hear the faint flicking of pages turning.
“I thought you said you knew it off your head?” I ask, suddenly worried.
“How did she die?” she asks, her voice rushed.
“She burnt herself out; she used all her magic,” I tell her. The thought saddens me because to do that would have been extremely painful. It’s not like overusing a muscle; it’s like losing part of your soul, feeling the life sucking out of you.
“You don’t have to give your magic up, Thaddeus. You just need to jump-start hers,” she says.
“What?” I ask, now confused.
“You need to jump-start her like a battery. Amara isn’t dead; she is like a petrified piece of wood or a drained vampire. She needs the energy to make power, energy for energy, a jump start,” she says, and I feel hope bubble up within me. I hang up.
I have two options: give up my magic and awake her with necromancy or boost her. Laying her on the ground, I try the better alternative first. Placing my hands on her chest, I let my magic cascade over me, sickly sweet and cold, my eyes bleed black, veins of liquid darkness spread over my body, moving towards my hands where I let it build up; build until I can feel it vibrating over my palms. The sadistic whispers become louder, trying to feed off her remains, but I ignore them, focusing solely on her, not letting them creep back in, not letting it take over as they call out for me.
The sky darkens as storm clouds roll across the sky, thick and heavy; the air feels electrified as I channel the energy around me; the ground shakes beneath us. I see lightning whip and crack across the sky, angry and relentless, fueled by my magic as I continue to let it feed off the storm I brew, off the energy as it zaps through the sky. Then, I let it go, sending it straight into her. The ground turns black beneath her as it blasts straight through her chest and into the ground. The air thickens, and I can smell the burning, acrid smell of my dark magic as it blasts the earth before my magic decays into the earth beneath me.
I wait, listening for any sounds of life within her, feeling for the gold flecks of her aura, but get nothing, just silence and the sound of the raging storm above my head made by my tumultuous emotions. Minutes feel like hours as I wait. I decide to give it one more go before trying the other way, but nothing happens.
Pressing my hands to her chest again, I feel for sickly sweet power of my magic, letting it build when I hear it.
Thump.
Then nothing. Shaking my head, I am about to draw energy when I hear it again. It makes me stop, wondering if I imagine it when I feel her heart bump in her chest. Rhythm picks up as it turns into fluttering, sounding like that of a hummingbird’s wings as it picks up speed.
Tears slip down my face when I realize she is alive. I can feel her heart beat beneath my hands. She suddenly gasps for air, her eyes fly open. She’s bleary-eyed before life returns to them. She smiles, her hands go to mine as a strange look crosses her face. She looks down at my hands and her eyes dart to mine.
“Oi, hands off the merchandise; what’s wrong with you? I am your sister,” she says, shoving my hands off her, appalled they are on her chest.
I am too stunned to care about what she just said; instead, I grab her and crush her against my chest while she smacks at me. Amara tries to escape my death grip on her but then she suddenly relaxes and hugs me back. “God, I am so glad to have your annoying, whiny, bitchy ass back,” I tell her, kissing her head.
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