No one who seeks the Spell of Obtainment has entirely pure motives. Emeth Auctor's reason was to oust the ruling class; the foolish woman's was to gain recognition and ensure that no one would speak ill of her again. At least, that was what they told themselves.

❂❂❂

Slowly, Shadow Weaver rose, paying no heed to the soreness in her back. Piles of glowing moondust lay ahead, having fallen from the cracks in the ceiling leading to the outside world. She staggered toward the source of power, grabbing her canteen from her discarded uniform.

Shadow Weaver scooped up the moondust, funneling it into the canteen with her bare hands. The powder stuck to her fingers; she grabbed great handfuls, mixing it with her water. It would be grainy, yes – moondust was usually blended with a powerful alcohol solution to mask the fact that it was an insoluble substance.

She drank; the magic flowed into her body, revitalizing her. The headache and soreness faded away. Shadow Weaver gorged herself on the magic, thankful to the moons above that an eclipse had come.

But as soon as she ingested it, Shadow Weaver cramped again. The memory of being electrocuted, of the magic healing and the lightning harming, drove her to fits. She cried out, bunching up again...

Please. Please please please go away...

There was only one way to escape; she had to yield herself to the Spell. To let it reach its full strength, driving her mad.

Micah winced. Through the pain, Shadow Weaver crawled back to him; he still lay on the cold stone floor, legs elevated, his makeshift splint immobilizing his fracture. Maybe if I can contact Nell, she thought, Micah will be well again. But she was afraid of Nell blaming her. And then she would not get his services.

Micah shuddered. "Did you get some magic?"

Shadow Weaver nodded, helping him to his feet. "Where do we go now?"

"I have no idea," Micah said. "Weren't you familiar with this place?"

Shadow Weaver gazed ahead. "Cast a spell beneath the path. Perhaps there's a way to the lower levels."

"You're insane."

"Thank you," she said with an eye-roll. "Any more obvious statements?"

Micah shrugged. "Just trying to lighten the mood." He gathered magic in his hand and shot it down the cavern.

A collapsed path lay far beneath – they might have been able to skid downward, if Micah wasn't injured. Shadow Weaver frowned. "Are you prepared to hear a foolish idea?"

His eyes lit up. "Sure!"

"When I say 'cucumbers or zucchini', jump."

"What?"

"You've never heard that code-phrase?"

"It sounds like something Nell would come up with, honestly," Micah laughed. "I love it."

"Are we decided?"

"Will you catch me?"

"Yes."

He nodded, and Shadow Weaver looked over the dark ledge. Then she soared off the edge of the path, falling into blackness again.

The dimness swirled into a memory. Shadow Weaver swallowed as she relived it. Muriel, shouting at her – throwing her against the wall after chaining her like an animal. Bellowing in her face as Micah stood by, trying to defend her.

She never had it easy. She always had to take the blame, the fall, for even her good actions. Punished for everything she did, righteous or evil.

Shadow Weaver closed her eyes, but the echoes continued, speaking to her as though she was dangerous. Like she hadn't just saved people. Like her morality was inherently corrupted for something she couldn't control. The darkness strangled her, that which had become her home. Her identity.

Shadow Weaver's eyes snapped open; skidding along the path, she pushed herself against the angular beam. She felt naked and ice-cold – a child playing dress-up as a queen warrior instead of a true titan to be reckoned with.

She landed at the bottom, her boots making a thick squelching sound. The ground was spongy. "Cucumbers, or zucchini?"

Micah plummeted off the edge, and she jumped high, catching him princess– style and bringing him down so he could land slowly. He winced. "Moons, this hurts to walk on."

"Tough. I can't carry you all the way." Vibrations hummed in her gut as she looked ahead. "I'm sensing a path. This way." He followed her slowly, and she spared a look back at him. He was wounded, in pain – but he was still smiling at her.

Shadow Weaver couldn't get herself to smile back.

✧✧✧

Micah continued with her down the path. "You never...offered an explanation for why you were screaming last night."

"Need I tell my enemy?"

Micah drew in a sharp breath, trying to ignore the pain in his leg. You can't change her mind overnight. "You don't have to say anything," he decided softly. "But if you want, maybe Nell could help once we're out. He's certified to work with mental health patients."

"Crazy people."

"You said you were going insane."

Shadow Weaver chuckled. "And you think I'd trust Nell to help with that? My health is between myself and the Fright Zone's doctors."

She stopped at the edge of a dropoff. The wet ground continued below. Micah couldn't shake the feeling that the entire path was obscured, and they would wander down here forever. "Sit down," Shadow Weaver said. "We're sliding."

"Sliding?"

"Micah, the more you speak to me in that tone, the more tempted I am to actually smile."

"Um...okay. As long as you think it's safe."

"I never said that."

"Oh, come on," he said, bumping her shoulder. "You won't hurt me – you like me."

"Wishful thinking." She tossed her head.

"Admit it."

Shadow Weaver rolled her eyes. "Come, now. Slide." She helped Micah into a sitting position. "Now, scoot yourself down the hill." She sat next to him.

"Race you?"

"Whatever."

Micah grinned, then scooted to the edge. Let's go. Then he slid down the path, Shadow Weaver beside him.

The wind whipped at his hair, and he laughed. The slime – whatever it was – cooled down his broken leg. Shadow Weaver cursed as they reached the bottom. "My backside," she announced, "is thoroughly soaked."

"You could have flown down."

"Yes, and run out of magic." She helped him to his feet. "We must continue. We –"

She stopped in her tracks. A boy with scruffy, mussed hair sat with a Delvalian lady a ways away. She stared blankly ahead with red-rimmed eyes, a contrast to her pure white skin.

"Norwyn...he lied about this, didn't he?" the boy asked.

"Yes. He told me that...that..." the lady's voice was broken, grieved. She was never happy, because everyone saw it fit to reject her.

"Why didn't you say something?" the boy whispered, casting a look at the scratches on her arms. Micah gritted his teeth; looking back on it, he should have taken her to the doctor immediately. Her poor arms...

"I didn't want to worry you."

"You worried me more by not telling me," the boy said, throwing his arms around her; the lady sat in shock. "Please tell me next time, Light Spinner. You'll always have me as your friend."

The woman held him back tightly, the wind blowing their hair around. Micah could vividly feel the deep care between them, like a warm hearth on a winter night. Though there was no background to the memories, he knew what he would find if he searched his memory.

Snow.

The vision ended; Shadow Weaver stared at the ground. Micah drew in a shuddering breath. "Why?" he whispered. "Why did you leave me? Why did you...betray me?"

"Because I had to," she said. "Otherwise, I would have died – if the Guild didn't kill me first, the Spell would have." A sigh. "But the foolishness of the Spell has torn us apart. Whether or not we were friends, we will leave this place as enemies once more."

"Why?" Micah asked, his voice shaking. "Light Spinner, why does it have to be this way?"

"Because I don't get a happy ending," Shadow Weaver said, turning around. "Nothing ever goes right for me."

"But it doesn't have to stay like that," Micah said insistently. He reached out to her, taking her by the shoulder, and she didn't refuse him. "Come with me to Bright Moon. Nell, Angie – they know. They want to help you. You could be free!"

Shadow Weaver gazed upon him with a blank expression, and Micah winced. It was a silly proposition – if he took her back to Bright Moon, the Alliance would want to nail her body to the wall. But they could hide her presence, keep her safe while they found a way to help her...

She sighed. "Let's...keep moving."

"No. No, don't just ignore me!" Micah limped over to her, but she kept walking until they reached another door. A gemstone was set in this one. Micah sighed. "Please. At least...give me an answer."

"Open the door."

"Light Spinner –"

"I said, OPEN IT!" she shouted suddenly.

Micah gritted his teeth; he hated when she yelled, when her deep voice twisted into a hideous weapon. But he pressed his hand to the gemstone; the door opened.

They stepped inside. "Light Spinner...whatever your concerns are, I'm sure that we can work it out. We saved a village, long ago – just the two of us. If we work together..."

Shadow Weaver sighed. "Always the idealist, aren't you?"

"Well?"

She growled. "I –"

A hissing noise sounded from ahead of them. They kept walking, until they entered a room with a high ceiling. Micah gasped.

They entered...the Lunarium.

Shadow Weaver let out a loud cry, racing back to the entrance, but a forcefield blocked her path. She banged on it. "Please! Don't make me go back...I can't relive it, not again..."

Micah began to tremble. "Shadow Weaver," he commanded, using her preferred name. "We have to face this together, or we won't be strong enough."

Shadow Weaver sank to her knees, taking shuddering breaths. Long silence hung between them; the vision was frozen, as if waiting for their undivided attention.

Finally, she staggered to her feet. Micah held out his hand to her, and she scowled, but took it. "It'll be okay. We'll...we'll make it." The words were hollow.

Micah braced himself for the vision. Soon after, it began.

❂❂❂

Did you know...

- I had a hard time developing a title for this chapter. Eventually, I ran with "Snow" because that was the weather condition when Shadow Weaver and Micah were in Delvala in Alura.

- Shadow Weaver's memories returning will be very important for Seraphite.

Tell me what you think...

- Why are Shadow Weaver's memories returning?

- Why might she be so aloof toward Micah?