A Fractured Light (Beautiful Dark)

“What do you say? I need you, Skye.”
    In my heart, I knew that it was time to make the choice I never made in my dreams. The one I had never made in River Springs. And I finally knew what the answer was.
    “Yes,” I said, knowing that the decision, once it left my lips, would be impossible to take back. I smiled, and for the first time since I’d woken up, Asher looked alive again, confident, like we could take on anything in the world as long as we were together. “Yes, I will.”

Chapter 5
    I t was an almost moonless night. I couldn’t sleep.
    Ardith had taken couch duty downstairs, and I waited for Asher to doze off in the rocking chair before silently slipping out of bed and out of the room. The closet door at the end of the hall beckoned to me. I wasn’t sure quite what it was that compelled me about this cabin, but I felt connected to it somehow, like I felt connected to the sweater I’d found earlier. I wondered who had lived here, and why they had abandoned their home.
    I opened the door as slowly as I could so that it didn’t squeak. The cabinet of drawers stared back at me.
    I started where I’d left off, opening each drawer slowly, quietly, and then closing it again. The first row was empty. So was the second. When I got to the third row, I felt the same scorching heat jump off the knob as before. Gingerly, I used the sleeve of my sweater to grasp the knob and pull open the drawer. Inside was a tiny, moleskin notebook. My hands trembled slightly as I picked it up.
    The first page was dated March 6 in the year I was born.
     
Guardians haunt these woods, watching us. I know they know. It’s only a matter of time.
We have to act quickly. There are too many of them. We need more recruits.
     
    What? It sounded like something Ardith or Asher could have written this morning, as if they’d been keeping a secret journal during their time here. But the date at the top of the page made that impossible. Could it be that this notebook belonged to someone, years ago, who knew about the Order? Someone who—like me—was being watched?
    As quietly as I could, I riffled through the remaining drawers but turned up nothing. I tucked the notebook into the enormous sleeve of my sweater and tiptoed back into the bedroom. When I was sure Asher was sound asleep, I hid it under my pillow.
    My discovery felt important. A clue—but to what mystery?
    I climbed into bed, and my sleep was peppered with feverish dreams.
     
    I was being chased.
    Crouching lower into the wind, I let my skis propel me faster. The snow beneath me was hard and icy, and it was almost impossible to keep myself from slipping in every direction. I veered wildly back and forth, certain with every passing second that he was going to catch up. I didn’t know what would happen when he did, but my whole body shook with fear at the thought.
    The figure in white was gaining on me. He was remarkably controlled, every movement precise, like he was merely running on the ground. He laughed, and I could have recognized that voice anywhere.
    “Well, hey there, Skye,” it called out to me.
    It wasn’t a he at all.
    It was Raven, the stunning, deadly Guardian who’d first told me just how far my powers could reach. That I was blurring my own destiny and the destiny of those around me. That Devin was changing because of me. Raven, who’d cut the brakes on Cassie’s car when Devin had told her I’d come close to revealing my secret. Raven, who had told the Order just how big a threat my powers were to them. Because of Raven, Devin had tried to kill me. And yet I’d almost forgotten about her.
    “The last time I saw you,” she called, “you were about to die.” Even yelling over the wind, her voice was sickly sweet and dripping venom.
    Now we were neck and neck, flying down the slopes.
    Flying , I realized with a start, as my feet left the ground. Her great white wings expanded behind her, sparkling like icicles in the harsh sunlight. I was suspended in the air, my own set of wings flung wide behind me. I couldn’t see them, but my heart lurched at the shadow they cast. What color were they? Pure, feathery white—or blackest black?
    “You think about him still, don’t you, Skye?” she yelled, gaining on me.
    The freezing air whipped at my face, which was numb from the blowing ice and snow.
    “I don’t!” I yelled back. And then, “What do you want from me?”
    “Come.” Her voice carried on the wind, sharp as a razor’s