Chapter 10 · A Voice in His Shadow

Cole's shadow walked without him.

It peeled off the stone like tar pulling free, leaving a black smear where his boots should've cast it. The footprint it burned into the ground glowed red for half a breath before fading to char. Cole couldn't move. His blood was still singing in his ears from how close the circle had come to draining him dry, and now his own shadow was walking away.

Ivy grabbed his shoulder. Her palm was still bleeding. "Don't."

He didn't know what she meant until he realized his foot was already lifting. His body wanted to follow. Like the shadow was a fishhook and he was caught on the line.

"Cole." Ivy's fingers dug in. "Your footprints. They stop where the shadow starts."

He looked down. The death marks she'd seen before—the ones that said he had six seconds left—they ended exactly where his shadow had split off. No, not split. The shadow had stepped forward and his death had gone with it.

The shadow stopped three paces away. It didn't have a face. Shadows shouldn't have faces. But Cole could feel it looking at him anyway.

Then it spoke.

"Cole.