A Fractured Light (Beautiful Dark)

edge.
    “I’m not following you anywhere!”
    She moved closer. I could feel her just behind me now.
    “I can protect you,” she said, more urgently, the tone of her voice changing slightly. It wasn’t a threat. It was more . . . a plea. “You know as well as I do that the Rebellion doesn’t care about your safety. They’re just going to use you as a weapon against us, anyway. I can get you home, and I can get you there safely.”
    Home. I ached for it. I missed Aunt Jo, missed my friends, wanted desperately to have my old life back. Was she really trying to help me? Could I trust her?
    “No!” I yelled back, trying to make my voice as steely as possible.
    “Fine, suit yourself. But I have to warn you.”
    Warn you. I have to warn you. My blood pounded in my ears, and I braced myself for whatever was coming next.
    “You should know. He’s in River Springs, waiting for you. They all are. Tons of them. If you’re going back there, you should know what you’re getting yourself into.”
    “Why are you telling me this?” I asked. What ulterior motive could she possibly have?
    “I may be a Guardian,” Raven said, “but there are laws that I’ll never understand.” She pulled up alongside me. “Don’t get yourself killed,” she added. “If it’s going to happen, I want to be the one to do it, ’kay?”
    I continued for a moment in silence, breathing hard.
    “Careful there, Skye!” Raven shouted as she veered, suddenly, left. Her voice was shrill and mocking. “Don’t fall now!”
    And then as if her words were a direction I had no choice but to follow, I fell, tumbling forward through a gaping hole in the side of the mountain and into what looked eerily like the snow cave that Asher and I had fallen into during the avalanche, the first time he’d shown me how to create fire. A figure in a black snowsuit stood hunched in the corner, his back to me.
    I was flooded with relief.
    “Asher!” I tried to catch my breath. The figure turned around, pulling down the hood of his jacket. The light reflecting off the snow caused his blond hair to blur into a halo around his head.
    Devin.
    I wasn’t at all prepared for the wave of emotions that overtook me when our eyes met. He looked so helpless, like he had that night in the clearing. Not at all like the evil monster he’d become in my head. “Skye,” he said. “I missed you.”
    “How can you say that?” My voice was shaking. “How can you talk like you didn’t try to kill me?”
    “I’m sorry. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t.” He reached out his hand. It was trembling ever so slightly, as if he was willing it not to. “Take it,” he said. “Take my hand.”
    “No.” I couldn’t. Not after what he’d done. “I will never trust you again.”
    “You will,” he said. “The Gifted can see it. They know you will.”
    “Then prove it!” I yelled. My voice rose above the howling of the wind and snow. “Prove to me I can trust you!”
    “You know the Rebellion isn’t the place for you. You have too much chaos in your life already. You want order, Skye. You want rules and serenity. You know I can give you that. You’ll look for reasons to trust me again.”
    I paused, the wind whipping my black hair in every direction. We stared each other down. The ice glistened on the walls around us.
    “You’re lucky this is just a dream,” I said. “If this were real life, I’d hurt you, just like you hurt me.”
    “Are you sure it’s just a dream?” he asked. His voice was low, level, calm as always.
    “Yes,” I said. “I’ve had this one before. In a minute, you’re going to warn me.”
    “Warn you? About what?”
    “You know,” I said through gritted teeth, waiting for it, bracing myself, “what you have to warn me about.”
    And just like that, a searing pain sliced through my stomach, and the walls of the cave became wings, writhing and alive, white as the snow and stained with my own blood.
     
    I woke up gasping, clutching my stomach. I wondered if a day would ever come when I wouldn’t be afraid of dying.
    I thought about home. I was afraid to find out what had happened to Cassie. Afraid to face Aunt Jo. And since turning seventeen, I’d been afraid of my powers—terrified of becoming as powerful as everyone said I would be.
    But I didn’t want to be a person who was governed by fear anymore.
    I was going to have to go home.
    I lay awake in bed as the sky changed from inky night to stormy gray. Thunder churned