Black Moon Draw

"What's the common factor, LF?" I demand of the author that stranded me in this world. There's no writing on my hand to help me out. "Something I said? Something I did?" I think back to those scary situations. They're somewhat fuzzy, given the amount of emotions and adrenaline that were in my blood at the time.

"Extreme emotion. Instinct," I murmur to the black Heart in my hands. Fear? Anger? Were those the keys? It seems like a horrible way to devise a weapon, like linking a nuclear bomb to a cranky three-year-old and hoping it doesn't go off. The image of the battle queen lingers in my mind. "I didn't have a chance to second guess myself."

The Shadow Knight's declaration from the tower returns to me, his claim that I needed to abandon my self-pity and appreciate who I am. Could he have been hinting at what the key is without knowing it?

That sounds so stupid. I can almost hear Jason say the words.

But he's not here, and this is my story, not his.

"I didn't beg it to work. I commanded it," I say with an uncharacteristic dramatic flourish. My face grows warm and I glance around to make sure no one heard. "Why the hell not?" I respond aloud. "Why am I never good enough? They built an entire legend around me here!" There's nothing wrong with my thoughts or feelings or looks. It's a lot to swallow after a lifetime of hiding myself away, but this is my second chance.

Heroes are normal people who do extraordinary things, the battle queen had said. Not always because they choose to, and rarely because they want to. But you know what? When it matters, they take a step they never thought they'd take.

Is this my step? Can it be as corny as learning to believe in myself? In not being afraid to take a chance, seize control of my life, and live?

I opened the door to my soul last night with the Shadow Knight. Even if I didn't let him enter, the entrance remains open, my emotions raw, and my newfound determination to try to live on my terms hovering in the doorway.

The writing on the medallion flares to life.

I almost drop it. "That's it, isn't it?"

A tingle of electricity tickles my fingertips.

"Maybe I should show Westley to be sure I'm not going crazy."

The light goes out and the tingle vanishes.

With a startled laugh, I turn the medallion over in my hands. "You only work because . . . what? I believed in myself for a fraction of a second?"