Page 91 of Avalon Tower

I chew on the end of my pen.

The only sounds at Lothian Tower tonight are the rain hammering the windows and the occasional clap of thunder. It feels eerie here. Abandoned. For three days, I’ve been mostly alone in my room, cramming for my tests and practicing my Sentinel powers.

Lightning flashes outside. A few seconds later, thunder booms, vibrating the stone walls and making the candles gutter in the candelabrum.

I stare at the blank page. I hadn’t realized how much noise I’m surrounded by at all times. Serana loudly knocking things around or swearing under her breath, sometimes randomly breaking into song. Tana, reading the cards yet again for Darius, checking if love is on the horizon. And through the door, I can usually hear the sounds of cadets talking loudly, their voices echoing in the cavernous halls. Now, the silence is eerie. Every now and then, I convince myself I can hear the faint screams of everyone being murdered by Mordred Kingslayer, the echoes of centuries ago floating over the stone.

It’s a good time to write to Mom.

Yet, as I stare at the page, I don’t feel like I have anything to say. I want to calm her, to reason with her. But her latest scathing letter lies on my desk, practically radiating anger and dysfunction. And it’s not like I can tell her I’ll be back soon. Or hell, even tell her where I am.

I sigh and try again.

This trip has been eye-opening. The beaches and the coast towns of—

My pen blurts a glob of ink, staining the paper and blurring my words. I try to blot the mistake, but the letters smudge, and now the word “beaches” looks like “bitch.”

I take a fresh piece of paper and start again.

Dear Mother,

I hope you forgive me—

Another ink blot. Now “forgive” looks like “forget.”

I grab another pen and a third piece of paper.

Dear Mother,

Finally, I am out of your grasp, you pathetic hag. I don’t need to listen to your constant complaints and narcissistic chaos, and I don’t need to clean your puke off the—

I stare at the parchment, horrified. I don’t know what made me write that. My hands are shaking now.

I stand up, and my chair tips over and clutters against the wood floor. I bend to pick it up and accidentally hit a pile of Serana’s books. The books topple, papers scattering everywhere. Fucking hell. What’s wrong with me? I just wanted to get in touch with my mom, and I’m losing it.

While I’m stacking up the books, the framed portrait of Merlin falls off the wall and tumbles onto Tana’s bedside table. I leap to grab it, but I’m too late. It drops atop the candle and catches on fire. Flames rise from the bedside table, and the acrid scent of smoke coils into the air.

Heart racing, I snatch a blanket to put out the flames. What the hell is happening?

As I try to smother the fire, the room seems to be coming apart around me. Vines snake off the walls, writhing in the air. The diamond panes in the windows shatter, spraying glass over the room. The wood in the wardrobe and desks turns dark and soft, becoming rotten and weak. The desk crumbles into decaying pieces before me.

I struggle to catch my breath, blood roaring in my ears.

Cracks form in the stone walls, and pieces of mortar start to crumble. Across the room, a heavy wooden ceiling beam crashes to the floor. The room is rumbling as if an earthquake is shaking Camelot. An enormous slab of plaster falls from the ceiling, missing me by a hair. I scream in panic and try to rush for the door, but it won’t open. The wood is warped and decaying. Holes form in the wall, and then entire sections collapse above the windows, exposing a starry sky with a drift of clouds in the distance.

Outside, the shadows are shifting, an enormous silhouette that blots out the moon and stars. A gargantuan figure of darkness, a void shaped like a monstrous warrior. As tall as the tower itself, maybe even taller. The vast silhouette lifts a huge arm and points at me, and I feel another presence inside my mind, amused and delighted by my horror.

There you are, little telepath. I found you. I hear you crying, and no one is coming to help.

I can feel his ice-cold wrath, but also his fascination. He doesn’t know what I look like yet, but he can sneak into my mind and sense my fear of him, like a cat who’s found a particularly lively mouse.

And now, he wants to play.

You can’t escape me, little telepath. As long as you go to sleep at night, I will always find you. This is my realm. My domain—one of fear and desire. And here, you are completely under my control.

The shadow clenches a fist, and the floor around me is suddenly swarming with snakes, crawling over my feet, slithering, hissing. I’m frozen with fear, can’t even breathe.

You shouldn’t have stolen from me. You have no idea what powers you’re toying with. Where are you, telepath?