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Summary
“Hi,” breathes Shadowheart, her voice low and weak. It is all she offers, as she looks steadfast ahead, refusing Lake’s gaze.
There is a vicious and urgent thought burning like white-hot metal to exploit, to hurt her while she is vulnerable. Fool, it whispers as it tickles through her veins, spreads through her bloodstream like a poison. It spawns images of Shadowheart’s pretty pink lips twisted into an expression of anguish, her eyes heavy and wide with panic and pain. It entices her with the promise of pleasure, the rush from the absolute feeling of control and power over another – a second of ecstasy, of peace, as the life would leave Shadowheart’s eyes.
The terrible urge is paired with an unpleasant, sticky feeling of shame, and Lake hurries to tear her eyes away from Shadowheart.
“Hi,” says Lake, letting their steps fall in tandem in silence, too afraid to trust her mind to say anything else.
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Or,
a brief excerpt from the party's visit to Moonrise, and what it means for Shadowheart and The Dark Urge.