Scarred (the Spellbound Series Book 3) Read Online Free Page B

casket are the survivors of New York City’s obliteration, all in black to mourn our collective loss. My mother’s eyes are dry as she listens to the priest’s words. Jenna and her family are likewise stone-faced, their gazes trained on the ground in front of them. Standing with them is Nick’s sister, Emma… the rest of their family was destroyed in the blast that extinguished the city’s life. The same is true for Rachel, who hasn’t quite adjusted to outliving her parents and sister. Landon doesn’t bother trying to hide his tears; he wears them proudly, silently letting them flow, his normally vibrant eyes devoid of their usual spark. And Alyssa, for her part, looks mournful, but I’m not sure if she feels the pain of loss as intensely as the rest of us do. Or at least, she doesn’t express it as openly.
                  They all turn as one when they notice Nick and I approaching the service. There are a few hushed gasps and mutters that I can hardly make out as they tumble over each other, and I can’t tell if they’re more surprised by Nick’s reappearance or the feathered additions to my appearance. Nick and Landon share a brief hug, before turning towards Krystal’s casket once more.
                  For a moment, no one knows what to say or do. No one here knows how to conduct a funeral; with this many metahumans in one place, we figured it would be safest to do this ourselves. But before the silence becomes unbearable, Landon asks, “Would anyone like to say a few words?”
                  Dead silence hangs in the air following the question, and it goes on for a few seconds before I volunteer to say something. A few people step back as I walk to the end of the casket where I think Krystal’s head might be. I look down at the polished wood, as if the right words are engraved there for my convenience. But they’re not, and the fact is, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know much about Krystal. No one ever has. And now no one ever will.
                  That realization inspires the first few words of my improvised eulogy. “Krystal was a woman of many mysteries,” I begin. “She kept more secrets than she did friends, her real name being one of those secrets. But it’s no secret that she was an amazing woman in her time. She was a force to be reckoned with. During the last year of her life, most people spoke her name with either reverence, or horror. That’s something I aspire to achieve myself.
                  “That being said, hardly anyone knows the side of Krystal that she only showed to the people she was closest to. The side of her that would rather watch bad Lifetime movies in her sweatpants than head out to a bar with friends. The side that will kick your ass for you, and tell you to your face that you’re being an idiot, but that can be tender when she knows you need it. That’s the Krystal I knew. That’s the Krystal I plan to remember.
                  “But whether you knew her as Krystal or Andrea, chances are, you were kept in the dark about a lot of who she was. I’ll tell you; Krystal was strong. She was brave. She was shrewd. She knew when to cut her losses, and when to take a risk. What she lacked in height, she made up for in heart. I’m gonna miss her. And if you were privileged enough to catch a glimpse of who she truly was, then I know you’ll miss her too.”
                  I look to Nick and Landon once I’ve said my piece, and ask, “Anything you guys would like to add?”
                  They both shake their heads, and Landon says, “You said it all. That was beautiful.”
                  No one else has it in them to speak, so I move on to the next part of the service. I ask everyone to stand back for a moment, so I can have space to work with. I focus my power on the ground beneath us, shaping the solid rock deep under the earth as I pull it