The Light Within (Shadow and Light Duology #2)

11. Julien

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Julien

J ulien lay flat on his back, the rough surface beneath him pressing uncomfortably against his spine.

But that was okay, because the horrible feeling was gone.

It had only plagued him for a minute at most, but it had been the sort of minute where the threat of it continuing made an eternity of time pass. The absence of the empty dread was like an oppressive weight being lifted, and he breathed in one heavy, grateful breath.

Oui , the feeling had gone, the rain had stopped, the sky was red, and all was well again.

Red?

Julien shot straight up. A single glance informed him the weight pressing on his left leg was Cinn, who was also sprawled on his back. Cinn was groaning, stretching, and very much alive .

For now.

A few shakes of Cinn’s body, and his eyes opened—thankfully the blackness had left them, bringing back the soft shade of golden hazel Julien could never help spending too long secretly admiring.

But now, those eyes drifted past Julien to perform a sweeping glance across the horizon.

“Back again, huh?” Cinn said.

Julien nodded, then joined him in surveying the shadowrealm. The odd, perpetual twilight from Julien’s last visit here remained, as did the fractured moon hanging low in the sky .

They were still on Westminster Bridge, that was for sure—but now it was a warped, sad reflection of its former self. The iconic lampposts were now gnarled and twisted, casting no light into the thick, red-tinged haze that surrounded them. The outlines of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament loomed ominously through the gloom, their facades now ravaged by those crimson ivy vines, disturbingly large, eerily alien. A large portion of the Palace of Westminster had crumbled to the ground, leaving gaping holes where walls once stood, the ruins overtaken by the pulsating, grotesque vines that seemed to feed off the destruction.

“You clearly can’t keep away,” Julien eventually retorted.

They walked over to the parapet, leaning across for a better view of what remained of the River Thames: a desolate riverbed, a vast expanse of cracked, parched earth, streaked with the remnants of dark, stagnant pools that had long since dried up.

Cinn pulled away, hanging on to the railing and leaning back, gazing up at the sky. He wrinkled his nose. “How come you’re here?”

“That isn’t entirely the response I was hoping for. I’ll go, shall I?”

“You know what I mean.” Cinn picked at a crimson vine wrapped tightly around the bars. It resisted at first, then its thick, sinewy strands gave way, leaving behind a rust-coloured imprint. “You were only able to come here last time because of the Mortalisfade.”

Julien gazed down the length of the bridge. “I’ve not the faintest clue,” he said. “Just before we came here, I felt this… horrible emptiness. It was awful. Like nothing mattered.” Julien swallowed; he could still taste the despair lingering on his tongue. “Then I looked at you and was reminded that it did. You matter.”

Cinn closed the space between them to press their foreheads together, grasping the nape of Julien’s neck. “Let’s get out of here. I’m so done with this shit.”

As if on cue, a blackness flickered behind Cinn. Not his shadow—that was Cinn-shaped again. The umbraphages had rejoined them .

Julien pulled Cinn behind him so fast he let out a gasp of air.

SHADOW

Cinn mumbled something like ‘for fuck’s sake’ before shouting, “What do you want?”

TO TALK WITH YOU

YOU AND HIM

That explained Julien’s invitation. He stepped forward, tipping his head back to fully take in the umbraphages and their immense size. “Talk then!”

WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF THIS WORLD

Cinn frowned—the question had surprised him, too. “I don’t know… it’s the shadowrealm ?”

THIS IS YOUR WORLD

AND IT IS NOT YOUR WORLD

“Yeah?” snapped Cinn. “Real helpful.”

IT COULD BE YOUR WORLD

Was it as they’d theorised? A prophetic glimpse into the planet’s destiny?

“Like, the future?”

WHAT YOU CALL THE SHADOWREALM CAN BE OF PAST

AND OF FUTURE

There were three separate umbraphages writhing in the red, hazy sky. The one Cinn banished had returned, or perhaps a new one had joined them—Julien couldn’t recognise one from another and he didn’t care to learn.

WE ARE HERE TO WARN

THE SANDS OF TIME SLIP AWAY

Cinn scoffed. “Why should we listen to you? All you do is go around murdering people and causing earthquakes and tidal waves and whatever the fuck you do! ”

NOT US

MOTHER EARTH IS UNBALANCED

SHE HURTS

SHE CRIES

WE ONLY COME TO WARN

“There’s about ten dead bodies on Westminster Bridge!” said Julien, dripping incredulity into his voice. “That, my friends, is not only coming to warn.”

HUMANS RESPOND BEST TO VIOLENCE

Did the umbraphages sound puzzled by Julien’s comment?

THE POWER YOU CALL MOTE IS UNBALANCING MOTHER

God, if only the Arcane Purifiers were here. They’d be frothing at the mouth to hear all this.

But it was one thing hearing the idea abstractly, and another from the horse’s mouth.

Were the umbraphages really saying that they needed to stop all use of motes? It would be nigh on impossible for moteblessed channellers—the need to channel was built into their very DNA. The years Julien had resisted had carved scars into him that would never heal. Not to mention the motetech embedded in millions of materials and objects all over the world.

THE POWER WAS A GIFT

A GIFT TO CHERISH

A GIFT TO PROVIDE

NOT TO BE MISUSED FOR HUMAN GREED

“Why are you telling us all this?”

Impatience spiking, Julien reached out with his sixth sense, feeling the air around him for the elusive motes he knew would be there. His skin prickled as he made contact with the tiny, pulsating specks of energy. Without conscious effort, he tugged on a few, the warm, comforting thrum resonating through his body like a soothing balm. The motes responded, vibrating with promises of untapped potential .

STOP

YOU WILL LISTEN

They sounded pissed. He sent a pulse of energy towards the umbraphages, the motes surging forward, crackling with intense, barely contained power that shimmered in the air.

A rumbling growl reverberated through the bridge, shaking the entire structure. Glass from a close-by lamppost rained to the ground.

“We don’t want to fuck with them!” hissed Cinn, digging his nails into Julien’s arm.

Then, Julien felt it again. That horrible sensation. The nothingness. The dread. He felt more than heard a low groan tumble out of his lips. A palpable wave of despair washed over Julien, coiling around his bones like the vine’s insidious grip on the city.

“ Arrête !” Julien eventually spat out, the word dragging itself out of him through a mire of thick, suffocating tar. “ Je t’en prie !”

To his astonishment, they obeyed, the oppressive atmosphere receding as the umbraphages halted their assault.

Cinn was staring at him with concern, as if he’d gone mad. Evidently the umbraphages only wanted to torture him.

Julien regained his breath, his composure. His sanity.

“But what do you think we can do about it?” Julien ran his hand through his damp hair to resist folding his arms. “Tell all this to Auri’s consortium!”

JULIEN MONTAIGNE

Julien flinched at the sound of his own name in the booming, inhuman voice.

A sharp intake of breath. Cinn gazed down at the floor, where the shadow cat slid out from between his legs. It angled its eyeless sockets towards Julien while its wispy tail flickered metronomically.

YOU ARE NOT THE FIRST MONTAIGNE WE ATTEMPTED TO TALK T O

Béatrice’s document flashed in his mind: The remaining skin exhibited evidence of umbraphage lacerations.

“You hurt her!” Julien cried.

Cinn pressed his hand against Julien’s back, but it did nothing to calm the storm that thundered within him.

IT WAS NOT OUR INTENT

WE APPEARED TO HER

SHE WAS SCARED

THE LOCKET KILLED HER

WE ONLY TOUCHED HER TO MAKE HER SHADOW

Julien’s gaze fell to the cat. Maybe she didn’t want to be shadow! “So this really is her then?” he asked them in a flat tone. It wasn’t lost on him that if an umbraphage hadn’t ‘appeared’ to her at the top of that mountain, she wouldn’t have channelled, and the locket wouldn’t have killed her. But this line of reasoning would be lost on the umbraphages, of this he was sure.

“Why did you appear to her?” asked Cinn.

WE WERE BOTH OF THE SAME INTENTIONS, US AND SHE

HER AND HER ARCANE PURIFIERS

WE WANTED TO HELP

SHE WENT TO HIM, JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER DID

The ground vanished beneath Julien. His mother? His breath caught in his throat as the weight of the words crushed into him with the force of a hundred thunderclaps.

“What? Who?” he whispered.

PèRE GéRARD

“Father Gérard?”

Hearing the recognition in Julien’s voice, Cinn slid him a look. Père Gérard. Now there was a name he never expected to hear. But this wasn’t the first time he’d thought about the kindly old priest in so many days. Although he’d kept it from the others, he’d recognised the address of Father Gérard’s church in Béatrice’s file—the mysterious location in France that he’d pretended to the others he didn’t recognise.

“Why did she go there?” Julien shouted at the umbraphage, while glaring at the cat between Cinn’s legs.

YOU DO NOT TRUST US

BUT YOU TRUST HIM

HE IS OF OUR CAUSE

HER CAUSE

YOUR CAUSE

A pause.

THE MACHINA TENEbrIS MUST BE DESTROYED

“The what?” muttered Cinn. “Do they think they’re clever, talking like this?”

The air was growing hazier with each passing shouted exchange. The red mist swirled around them, wrapping them in a serpentine embrace, obscuring the umbraphages.

“Wait,” Cinn shouted, threading his fingers through the fog as if he could sweep it away. “Why did you keep me here last time? And none of that shadow crap.”

YOU ARE SHADOW

Their cadence changed slightly—the umbraphages sounded confused. Julien snorted. Reasoning with them was clearly a hopeless endeavour.

MUST PROTECT SHADOW

“You’re the ones I need protection from!” Cinn snarled. “You won’t fucking leave me alone!”

MUST PROTECT SHADOW FROM HIM

Julien felt the umbraphages gaze turn to him, which was ridiculous, because they didn’t have eyes, and Cinn wasn’t in any danger from him for Christ’s sake .

The accusation rekindled his hot fury. Without a second thought, he reached for the motes—