“The timing’s too perfect to be coincidence.” Rafe shifted, his bandages rustling. “Her death, the grimoire appearing, D’Arco’s return—I think you’re right.”

  Vesper glanced down at her hands, remembering the raw power that had erupted during the trial chamber attack. That surge of energy had felt natural, instinctive—but trying to grasp it now was like catching smoke.

  “I need to understand this Resonant thing properly.” She flexed her fingers, watching the faint opalescent sheen beneath her skin. “What happened in the chamber… I can’t rely on blind luck again. They’ll be prepared next time.”

  “The grimoire could help.” Rafe’s voice carried a note of concern. “But exploring Resonant powers without proper guidance⁠—”

  “Is dangerous?” Vesper gave him a wry smile. “More dangerous than waiting for D’Arco to figure out how to neutralise them?”

  “Point taken.”

  “We find the traitors, we solve Selene’s murder, we stop D’Arco.” Vesper counted off each task, the weight of them settling across her shoulders. “Simple enough, right?”

  Rafe’s attempt at a laugh turned into a grimace. “At least we won’t be bored.”

  The infirmary darkened as night settled over Thornhallow. Vesper lit the bedside lamp with a flick of magic, its warm glow casting long shadows across Rafe’s bandages.

  “And then there’s The Echo. It keeps coming up in everything we find,” she said. “Selene’s research, D’Arco’s plans, even those ‘echoes’ I saw through the grimoire. A relic that houses memories, that can alter reality itself. The trial was perfect for a Resonant, don’t you think?”

  “It’s not just coincidence.” Rafe pushed himself straighter against the pillows, wincing. “If D’Arco gets control of the Echo⁠—”

  “He could reshape the magical world however he wants.” The thought made Vesper’s stomach twist. “But hunting for it ourselves? Us against how many mages?”

  “Someone will find it eventually.” Rafe gestured to the grimoire. “The grimoire… Selene died protecting it. She must have thought you could use it somehow—more than just something to help you learn how to use your magic.”

  “Maybe, but going after something that powerful… I don’t know.”

  “We might not have a choice.” Rafe’s voice was grim. “If D’Arco claims it first, you’ll never be safe.” His hand found hers. “Nowhere will be safe…for anyone.”

  Every instinct she had screamed that the Echo was dangerous, that they should run as far from it as possible. But the grimoire’s persistent hum, the way it responded to her Resonant abilities, Selene’s desperation when she’d hidden it in the library, it was too much to ignore.

  The infirmary’s shadows deepened around them, broken only by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Their clasped hands formed a bridge across the starched white sheets, neither willing to break the connection just yet. Vesper’s thumb traced absently over his knuckles, feeling the slight tremor that ran through his fingers.

  “The magical world knows about me now,” she said. “There’s no hiding after what happened in the trial chamber.”

  “Then they will know how powerful you are,” Rafe whispered, gazing up at her. “And will think twice about messing with you.”

  She attempted a smile, but she didn’t feel powerful or a force to contend with. “Then you better get some rest, because I still need backup.”

  His eyes drooped. “Your wish is my command…”

  As Rafe slipped back to sleep, the Echo loomed in Vesper’s thoughts, a shadowy presence as vast and unknowable as the Fold itself. To think that such power existed—power that could reshape reality, alter memories, change the very fabric of their world—terrified her. And somehow, she was meant to play a role in wielding it. Seemed to her that no one should have it at all.

  The Arcana… If the Echo was just one of the artefacts in the lost trove, she didn’t want to entertain what else might be a part of the lineup.

  A cool breeze swept through the infirmary windows, rustling the thin white curtains. The distant sounds of stone grinding against stone echoed through Thornhallow’s grounds—repair work already underway to patch the damage from the attack.

  Metal rang against metal as workers reinforced the manor’s physical defences. Voices called out instructions, their words muffled but urgent.

  Rafe’s breathing had evened out, his exhaustion finally claiming him. His hand remained loosely clasped in hers, warm despite his pallor. The bandages covering his burns glowed faintly in the lamplight, a reminder of how close she’d come to losing him, and to being captured herself.

  The Concordat’s facade of untouchable power had cracked today. Now they scrambled to shore up their defences, to present a strong front to those who would challenge them.

  But physical barriers wouldn’t be enough to stop what was coming. Not with traitors hidden in their ranks, not with D’Arco’s forces growing bolder, not with the Echo’s power hanging over everything like a storm about to break.

  The breeze carried the sharp tang of defensive magic being cast. Thornhallow was changing, arming itself for the battles ahead. The peaceful sanctuary it had pretended to be was transforming into a fortress.

  And Vesper Ainsley was in the centre of it all. The eye of the storm.

  Epilogue

  The silver-haired mage traced her fingers along the mirror’s tarnished frame, watching darkness pool beneath her nails. The battle played out in her mind—that moment when victory had been within reach, only to be snatched away by an explosion of opalescent light.

  The shadows in the chamber twisted and coiled around her ankles like restless serpents. Her reflection rippled, the white sheen in her eyes growing brighter as her magic responded to her mounting frustration. The veins at her temples darkened, a physical manifestation of the corrupted power that coursed through her.

  The girl’s power had caught them all off guard. Their careful plans hadn’t accounted for such raw potential. And that fool, throwing himself between her shadows and the girl. His interference had cost them dearly.

  Her fist struck the mirror, sending cracks spider webbing across its surface. Each fragment reflected a different angle of her fury—her twisted features, her singed silver hair wild about her shoulders. The shadows responded to her rage, deepening until the chamber itself seemed to pulse with darkness.

  “We were so close.” The words came through gritted teeth. Instead, they’d been forced to retreat, leaving her carefully laid plans in tatters.

  The cracks in the mirror caught the dim light, creating a kaleidoscope of her fractured reflection. The mage watched as the darkness in her eyes spread, the corruption of shadow magic seeping further into her being with each passing moment. The price of power, of anchoring D’Arco through his banishment, etched itself deeper into her flesh.

  The mirror’s surface began to ripple, darkness spreading from its edges like ink in water, and the features fused together, creating a smooth surface.

  Lucian D’Arco’s presence filled the chamber, his shrouded reflection materialising in the glass, his features unclear. “You failed me, Cassandra.”

  The silver-hared mage—Cassandra—snarled, her fingers curling around the mirror’s frame, her nails leaving scratches on the aged silver. The corruption in her veins pulsed, responding to her master’s presence. Each beat sent fresh waves of pain through her temples, but she refused to show weakness.

  “The timing wasn’t right, Lucian.”

  “Silence.” The shadows in the room grew darker, more substantial. “I did not break the seals and suffer to be thwarted by your incompetence.”

  The cold bite in his voice made her skin crawl. Darkness coiled around her wrists, tightening until her bones ached. Her own magic fought against his hold, but the shadow-taint that bound them together made resistance futile. The corruption that had once been her choice, her path to power, now felt like chains.

  The mirror’s surface fractured again under the weight of his displeasure. Each crack spawned new shadows that writhed across the walls. The chamber grew colder, frost crystallising along the edges of the broken glass. Her reflection splintered across dozens of shards, each one showing the grey veins of her power etched into her flesh.

  Cassandra straightened her spine, forcing her trembling muscles to still. The shadows in her veins burned, but she refused to let it show. Each word needed precision now—one misstep and D’Arco’s shadows would consume her completely.

  “The girl is stronger than we anticipated,” she said, keeping her voice steady despite the darkness constricting her throat. “But her awakening has served our purpose. The Echo responds to her presence, just as it did to the others.”

  D’Arco’s reflection rippled in the mirror, his pale features distorting like smoke on water. “Then we proceed as planned. Find her, Cassandra. I don’t care what state she’s in when you do—conscious, unconscious, broken—but her power must remain intact.”

  The shadows tightened their grip on her wrists, and Cassandra felt the bones grind together. She bit back a gasp, tasting blood where her teeth had cut into her lip. The shadows beneath her skin pulsed in time with his words, a reminder of their binding contract.

  His smile twisted, cruel and sharp as a blade. “The artefact will surface soon enough.”

  The threat was clear. The shadows around her throat constricted briefly—a promise of what awaited her should she fail. The mirror’s surface shimmered, and Lucian’s presence faded, leaving Cassandra alone with the writhing darkness.

  A map unfolded in the air between her and the mirror, showing a network of glowing lines. She smiled, knowing Vesper’s journey had only just begun. And this time, she wouldn’t let the girl escape.

  Cassandra lifted her hand, letting shadow magic pool in her palm. The darkness coalesced into threads that wove through the air, forming an intricate lattice of pulsing lines. Each strand represented a ley line running beneath Nightreach’s streets, their power flowing like rivers of midnight.

  The map hung between her and the fractured mirror, casting an ominous glow across her pale features. She traced the familiar patterns—convergence points where magic gathered, nodes of power that could be drawn upon. But there, near the heart of Nightreach, a new resonance disrupted the familiar flow.

  The corruption in her veins stirred, responding to the map’s energy. Grey veins crept further across her temples as she poured more power into the projection, forcing it to reveal the subtle disturbances in the magical currents. Vesper’s presence blazed like a beacon, the use of her untamed Resonant abilities sending ripples through the ley lines.

  Cassandra’s fingers danced through the projection, manipulating the strands of shadow-light. The map shifted, revealing deeper layers of magical topology. Thornhallow’s wards glowed like a fortress of light, but even they couldn’t mask the girl’s distinctive signature.

  A smile curved her lips as she watched the patterns shift and flow. The girl might have escaped their first attempt, might have found protection behind the Concordat’s walls, but she couldn’t hide forever. Every time she used her power and attempted to master her true nature, it would send echoes through the ley lines that Cassandra could track.

  The corruption beneath her skin burned as she fed more power into the map, but she welcomed the pain. It was nothing compared to what she’d endured binding herself to D’Arco. Nothing compared to what awaited if she failed him again.

  The map pulsed, the lines of power writhing like living things. Cassandra’s smile widened as she watched Vesper’s magical signature flare brighter, announcing her presence to anyone who knew how to look. The girl had no idea how visible she was, how each step drew her closer to the trap they’d laid.

  All Cassandra had to do…was wait.

  Continue the story in:

  A FREQUENCY OF TRUTH

  (The Resonant Arcana - Book Three)

  Echoes of the past. Powers of the present.

  The deeper the truth, the darker the price.

  With her Resonant powers no longer a secret, Vesper Ainsley has become a target for every magical faction in Nightreach. But a greater threat lurks within her mind—vivid echoes of her friend Selene's final days, memories that aren't her own yet feel increasingly real. These dangerous visions may hold the key to stopping Lucian D'Arco—a mysterious figure whose dark magic threatens both the mortal and magical worlds.

  * * *

  Her path collides with Detective Inspector Blair Calloway, who's investigating the suspicious circumstances of Selene's death with an arsenal of enchanted tools and deep knowledge of London’s supernatural underworld. Together with the mage Rafe, they navigate Nightreach's darkest corners while the silver-haired mage Cassandra hunts them through the twisted streets, determined to claim both Vesper and her grimoire for D'Arco's sinister plans.

  * * *

  As conspiracies unravel and betrayals come to light within the Concordat itself, Vesper must master her evolving powers before they consume her entirely. But in a city where ancient magic pulses beneath the streets and shadows hide deadly secrets, success may require sacrificing the very memories that make her who she is.

  * * *

  For fans of dark urban fantasy and suspenseful magic, A Frequency of Truth delves deeper into a world of ancient power and intrigue, where memories become weapons and the search for truth could cost someone their soul.

  OTHER BOOKS IN THE RESONANT ARCANA SERIES

  by Nicole R. Taylor

  * * *

  Ancient grimoires. Deadly shadows. When magic calls, darkness answers...

  * * *

  An Echo of Magic #1

  A Resonance of Power #2

  A Frequency of Truth #3

  A Shatter of Spells #4

  A Fracture of Fate #5

  A Requiem of Ruin #6

  A Cadence of Ash #7

  A Harmony of Ages #8 <—The FINALE!

  NICOLE’S VIP NEWSLETTER

  * * *

  If you would like to keep up with all the news from Nicole, including exciting new book releases, sales, cover reveals, pre-orders and more, please signup with your email address by tapping the link below.

  * * *

  SIGN UP FOR THE VIP NEWSLETTER HERE!

  *or visit: nicolertaylorwrites.com/newsletter

  ABOUT NICOLE

  Nicole R. Taylor is an Australian Urban Fantasy author.

  She lives in the western suburbs of Melbourne dreaming up nail biting stories featuring sassy witches, duplicitous vampires, hunky shapeshifters, and devious monsters.

  She likes chocolate, cat memes, and video games.

  When she’s not writing, she likes to think of what she’s writing next.

  * * *

  Follow Nicole Online:

  * * *

  Website: www.nicolertaylorwrites.com

  Facebook: facebook.com/nrtaylorwrites

  Newsletter: www.nicolertaylorwrites.com/newsletter

  Email: nicole.this.is@gmail.com

  * * *

  * This book is written in British/AU English.

 

 

  Nicole R. Taylor, A Resonance of Power

 

 

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