Shadow King Sneak Peek

There are eyes in my summoning circle.

Glowing blue eyes, blazing in the darkness like sapphires on fire. Not red like Hex's. Blue. A blue so vivid and intense it burns.

Just eyes. No body. No form. Just eyes floating in shadows that are somehow darker than the darkness around them.

The mug slips from my hand.

It hits the floor and shatters. Tea and ceramic shards spray across the floorboards. The sound is obscenely loud in the silence.

The eyes don't blink. They don't move. They just stare at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat.
I've caught a shadow being.

"Little Witch," says a voice from the darkness. It's deep and smooth and controlled in a way that suggests enormous power being held on a very tight leash. "We should talk."

My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat. My magic surges instinctively, defensive, ready to fight or flee or do whatever it takes to survive.

But I don't move. I can't move. I'm frozen in place, staring at those burning blue eyes in my living room.

This is Dis. The weapon who carried out a coup. The usurper who sat on Hex's throne. The being who ordered my flat burned down and wanted me to burn with it.

And he's trapped in my summoning circle.

The realisation hits me all at once, crashing over me like a wave. The spell worked. It actually worked. He's here and he's bound and he can't leave until I let him go, and I have absolutely no intention of letting him go.

I have a former shadow king trapped in my flat above a coffee shop in Bristol.

This is insane. This is the most insane thing I've ever done.

"You're smaller than I expected," Dis says. 

It makes me bristle immediately, hot anger flooding through me and burning away some of the fear. I'm short, so what? I would have thought an interdimensional being would be above such stupid human observations. Height doesn't mean power. Height doesn't mean anything except where I shop for trousers.

"And considerably more startled," Dis continues, those blue eyes narrowing. "Did you not intend to summon me?"

I find my voice. It comes out steadier than expected, which is a small miracle given that my entire body is shaking. "I intended exactly this."

"Did you." It's not a question. The blue eyes narrow further, studying me like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve. "How foolish."

We stare at each other across my living room. The shattered mug lies between us. Tea seeps into the floorboards.

"Welcome to Bristol," I say. "You're going to be here for a while."

The eyes burn brighter. The shadows around them shift and swirl, he’s not deigning to manifest into anything solid, but the binding is holding. He can't leave the circle. Can't do anything except exist as eyes and darkness and fury.

"You have made," Dis says, very quietly, very carefully, "a significant mistake."

I lift my chin higher. My hands are still shaking, but I clench them into fists and hold my ground. I will not back down. I will not show fear. I will not let him see how terrified I am.

"No," I say. "You made the mistake. When you burned my flat down."

Silence. The kind of silence that feels like it's full of sharp edges.

Then Dis laughs. It's a low, dark sound that rolls through the flat like distant thunder. Not amused. Not even close to amused. Something far colder than that. Something that makes the temperature drop again and frost form on the window behind me, ice crystals spreading across the glass in delicate patterns.

"Oh, Little Witch," he says, and there's something terrible in his voice. "You have no idea what you've done."

I think about the texts I studied. The binding spells I memorised until I could recite them in my sleep. The three months of preparation that went into this moment, every detail checked and rechecked. I think about what he did to me, how he destroyed my peace when I had only just won it. I think about how very tired I am of taking hits and never, ever punching back.

"I know exactly what I've done," I say. "I've bound you. And you're not going anywhere until I say so."

The blue eyes stare at me. Unblinking. Burning with something that might be rage or might be grudging respect or might be both at once.

"You are mistaken," says Dis.

The shadows pulse, testing the boundaries with more force. The runes flare bright in response, blazing blue-white, holding firm.

"Very, very mistaken to dare to try to hold me," he growls, and his voice drops into something deeper, something that resonates in my bones. "I am Dis. Dismay. Disaster. Disgrace. Disfigure and disembowel."

Each iteration drops like the threat it is. Each word is a promise of violence. Primal fear coils in my belly, cold and sharp, but it ignites something else too. Protective rage. Furious determination. He tried to kill me once. I won't let him do it again.

“Alright, Disney!” I snap. 

He slams against the invisible wall with a snarl that sounds like tearing metal. The entire building shakes. I take a step backwards, my heart in my throat, certain the binding is about to break.

But the wards hold. He's trapped. Properly, completely trapped, no matter how much power he throws at the circle.
I've actually done it. I should feel triumphant. Vindicated. Powerful.

Instead, I just feel terrified.
​
Because I have a former shadow king in my living room and absolutely no plan for what happens next.

​