by Meg Anne
“We need to be sure it will work before we can let you try.”
Lucian let out a low growl. “We won’t know if it will work until we try.”
“And we cannot risk you becoming corrupted for the sliver of a chance.”
“You are too powerful, Guardian. Under that kind of influence there’s no telling—”
“Trust me,” Lucian said, his voice menacing, “if she dies because we did nothing, I can tell you exactly what will happen.”
The silence stretched between them as Lucian’s heart raced and the sound of blood filled his ears.
“Consider us warned.”
“But it does not change anything. We will come, and if we feel that the magic is sound, then you may attempt it.”
Lucian laughed, but there was no humor in it. It was a dark, manic sound. “I am not asking permission. She is my responsibility. I will take whatever risk I deem necessary. No one, not even the Triumvirate, will stand in my way.” He was practically vibrating with his fury. “You don’t want to find out what happens if you try.”
He was a hairsbreadth away from losing control entirely. Lucian forced himself to turn around, before the violence within him snapped free from its tether. He’d meant what he said. He would slay anyone that tried to keep him from her. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t regret it later, once sanity returned to him—if it ever did. He was already teetering on the brink of madness.
There was nothing left to say. They were at an impasse. The Triumvirate were determined to try to wrangle him, and Lucian had no intention of being restrained.
He stalked toward the meeting place, the whisper of robes brushing against the floor trailing his every step.
“Guardian, I was just wondering when you’d make an appearance.” Quin greeted him with a broad smile.
Still on edge from his confrontation in the hall, Lucian could only manage a tight-lipped smile.
Quin’s eyes widened slightly when he saw the two members of the Triumvirate step into place beside him. “I didn’t realize this would be a group tour.”
“Neither did I,” Lucian said, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
Rubbing his hands together, Quin pushed himself up from the desk he was seated behind. “Well, the more the merrier. Shall we be off?”
Lucian answered by stepping away from the door.
“I thought it best if I show you the hub”—he turned to look over his shoulder—“that’s what we call the center of the city. It’s where all the action is. It’s also the best example of what you were asking about yesterday.”
“Your atmospheric . . .”
“Replication,” Quin supplied with a nod. “Exactly.”
“You’ve found a way to recreate the atmosphere from the surface.”
Quin’s back stiffened at the intrusion in his mind, but he forced an answering smile. “Yes.”
“How?”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to show you. I think it’s easier to understand if you can see it.”
Lucian’s brows dipped, but he followed the man further into the city. Val’don was coming to life around him. With each step, the sounds of people going about their day grew louder. The simple gray interior gave way to architectural marvels that would have been impressive above ground. Down here, they were miracles.
The city was sprawling, stretching far past what Lucian’s eye could see. He’d been to Val’don before, but never this deep into its heart. He had no idea what the people of the Vale had been hiding.
“Welcome to the real Val’don,” Quin murmured, pride shining in his eyes as he watched them take in all his city had to offer.
The earth had been excavated, towering buildings scattered along its surface, with more shops and offshoots dug into the walls that encircled the whole of the city. In its center, shooting all the way from the ground up to the . . . sky. Lucian blinked, shocked at what he was seeing. A massive structure, its numerous archways illuminated the same brilliant blue of a midday. Its details were beyond intricate, the delicate domes and spires seemingly made from glass.
“How?” Lucian breathed, echoing the Triumvirates’ earlier question.
“What do you know of our powers?” Quin asked.
“Not enough, apparently.”
Quin chuckled. “The strength of my people has always been our adaptability. We were always willing to learn about other cultures, take what they had already perfected and use it as our own. It is what originally incensed the Chosen and had us declared one of the Forsaken. They did not like that we desecrated”—Quin rolled his eyes—“what the Mother had seen fit to gift us.”
Lucian rubbed his chin, the story sounding vaguely familiar.
“What they call desecration, we call advancement. In its basest form, our magic is tied to nature. Using what we learned from others, we were able to modify that power, strengthen it.”
“Modify?”
Quin nodded, eyes bright. “Outside of Elysia there are many practitioners of magic. It is not something they are born with, as we are, but something that they can call upon and control. They use a series of spells or rituals to tap into the power of the world around them. Using their spells, we are able to harness and employ our natural gifts in new and amazing ways.”
“If you already possess power, why would you need to tap into other sources?”
Quin gestured to the city thriving below them. “You see what is possible when hundreds combine their strength. Now imagine what is possible when each of those people is capable of what you see before you on their own.”
A current of foreboding skittered through Lucian at the possibilities. In the wrong hands, such power could be catastrophic.
If the low cast of the voices in his mind were any indication, the Triumvirate shared his concerns.
“Dangerous to play with such forces.”
“If they were to lose control . . .”
Quin’s expression did not change, so the Triumvirate had not broadcasted their thoughts with him. His smile did falter slightly, however, when no one seemed to share his enthusiasm.
“We take every precaution when performing new rituals,” he rushed to assure them. “We do not want to put our citizens at risk. We only seek to find advancements that make all our lives better.”
Lucian nodded, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he peered at the city.
“Water, for example. There were many underground streams, but the runoff from the destruction above had tainted them. We found a purification spell that allowed us to provide fresh drinking water. With it we’ve been able to filter out what does not belong. The same with the air and the earth. With the added boost from the ritual, we need only strengthen the magic every decade or so.”
Could it be that simple? Lucian’s mind was racing, his attention riveted on the man before him. “Where do the impurities go?”
“The Nether,” Quin said with a shrug.
Lucian went completely still. “Nether?”
Quin’s eyes bounced between them, shock registering briefly on his face when he realized they were not familiar with the word. “Surely you jest?” He laughed uncomfortably before sputtering, “How could you not have heard of it?”
“Humor us,” Lucian said.
Cheeks tinged red, Quin explained, “It is a world tied to our own, existing alongside us, connected as counterbalance.”
The longer he spoke, the faster Lucian’s mind spun. Fragments of ancient text fluttered through his mind as a tornado of emotion tore through him. A solution was just out of grasp, but not for much longer. This was it. He was on the precipice of discovery.
“It is the birthplace of nothingness. If our world is one of life, the Nether is one of death.”
Breath stuttered from his lungs as answers came crashing into being. “For everything there is balance . . .” he whispered.
“Fire and Water.”
“Air and Earth.”
“Spirit and . . . Nether,” Lucian finished.
More explanations fluttered at the edges of his awareness, but there would be time to explore them later. For now, Lucian needed to make sense of what the presence of onyx threads meant.
“You’ve learned how to harness Nether.”
Quin’s brows pulled together in confusion. “No.”
“No?” Lucian asked, snapping his attention back to the soldier.
Quin flinched at the power pouring from his eyes, but Lucian did not pull it back. He wasn’t done with it yet.
“There is nothing to harness. The Nether is a void. Nothingness. It is where we send that which we do not need.”
“That may have been true . . . once,” Lucian murmured.
“I-I’m sorry?”
“Did your ancestors use the Nether to help with their excavations while building Val’don?” Lucian asked instead.
Quin shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s possible.”
“If that’s so, then they sent something into a place where nothing should exist. They warped its purpose, and in doing so, created something new.”
Quin was shaking his head. “Anything that goes into the Nether is destroyed. Nothing can exist there. It’s impossible.”
Lucian hummed low in his throat. It was clear Quin believed what he was saying, but that didn’t make it true. Lucian was looking at the evidence right now. As with all magic, the Nether had left its trace. While it may have come from the void, when called into their realm, it too was transformed. Called into being. Now it was part of the weave.
“What do you see, Guardian?”
Lucian ignored the question, still focused on Quin. “I’m going to need you to show me the spells you used. The ones that cast out the impurities.”
Quin’s answering nod was a sharp jerk. “Sure. I just need to notify the Council. They maintain all of our records.”
“You do that.” When the man didn’t move, Lucian bit off a growled, “Now.”
“R-right, I’ll be right back.”
Lucian watched him retreat before addressing the Triumvirate’s earlier question. “The Nether is interwoven in the very essence of this place.”
“How is that possible?”
“When the people of the Vale called it forth during their rituals, intentionally or not, they called the Nether into being. Transforming it.”
“They gave it substance.”
“Aye. Its presence here indicates that something tangible has been cast out. It is the echo of what once existed, although invisible without a gift such as mine.”
“You think we can utilize the Nether.”
“To cast out the corruption?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it? At its core, the corruption is based in Spirit. Nether is its balance. If we cannot use Spirit to combat it, as Helena does, we will use Nether.”
“Do you really think it will work?”
Lucian gestured behind him. “They’ve already proven that it has. You heard the man, whatever is sent into the void is destroyed. Similarly, whatever fragments of Nether that were called into our world have been spelled into being. Each world has its own natural laws, which supersede any others, so while the Nether is a void in its natural state, here it is given substance and woven into existence.”
“Guardian, that only solves one problem. Removing the corruption only keeps it from spreading. It does not undo the effects.”
“Anything with substance can be altered,” Lucian said, his eyes glittering as a smile stretched across his face. If there was anything a Guardian understood, it was the art of transformation.
“Lucian . . .”
“I know how to save her.”
Chapter 11
Kieran stood from the table, leaving his plate for someone else to deal with. After days of solitude, he’d finally been allowed to leave his room. Apparently he’d been deemed safe enough to allow outside. That didn’t mean the people of the Vale welcomed him.
Quite the opposite.
They gave him a wide berth whenever he walked among them. He was a stranger, and his claim of amnesia did little to invite trust.
Not that he cared.
All that mattered was making sure no one could associate him with the massacre in Bael.
Head down, Kieran made the trek back to his room. Now that he’d been granted his freedom, he found he had nothing to do with it.
The sounds of a whispered, albeit heated, argument reached his ears. Kieran glanced up, keeping his face carefully neutral.
“You offered to do what?” the female shrieked, her hands fisted at her sides.
“What is the harm, Trin? You know better than anyone that seeing a spell hardly means you know how to perform it,” her male companion replied calmly.
“That’s worse! They are going to dabble in something they don’t understand. Here. In our home. They’re as likely to bring the entirety of Val’don falling down around us as they are to actually be successful in their endeavors. Who knows? Maybe that’s what they’ve been intending all along,” she finished with a hiss.
Kieran frowned. It would seem he was not the only one visiting the Vale. Inching closer, he dropped to his knee and pretended to retie his boot.
The man snorted. “As if the Triumvirate would come in person if that was their intent. Their people are suffering, Trin. They are the victims.”
Kieran was frozen in place, his heart pounding in his chest, and his fingers started to tremble. They were here. The very people he was trying to escape. Did they track me? Do they know?
“The Guardian is merely seeking a way to save that woman,” he continued.
“What do we even know about her, besides the fact that she is clearly dangerous? Councilman Vance wouldn’t have insisted on locking her up otherwise.”
The man laughed again. “Did you see how slight she was, Sister? Barely larger than a child. I am sure they exaggerated so that we would toe the line.”
Kieran peeked through the curtain of his hair in time to watch the woman cross her arms over her chest. His entire body was quaking, his lungs struggling to draw in air. There was only one woman with that description the Guardians would be worried about.
“As if the Guardian would need to exaggerate to get his point across. Did you see how she was bound? Tiny or no, no one his size wastes time with chains that big—or a gag for that matter—if they are not trying to contain an actual threat.”
His thoughts were fractured, the words swimming around in his mind without making any sense. The way they were talking, Effie . . . but that would mean . . . No!
A horrible, keening wail filled his mind. Kieran threw out a hand, trying to catch himself before he toppled over. What have I done?
He’d sought to punish her and ended up condemning her to a fate far worse than death. In his rage, Kieran had managed to destroy the one thing he’d ever truly loved.
Gasping, Kieran pushed to his feet, staggering as he started forward.
“Hey, are you okay?” the man asked.
Kieran waved him off, heading for the only exit he’d managed to locate during his wanderings.
If the Keepers were here, if they’d figured out what he’d done . . . He couldn’t stay. He didn’t deserve to stay. If she was gone, there was nothing left to live for anyway. If he was condemned to die for his sins, better he risk his fate at the hands of the Mother than leave himself to face the wrath of the Guardians.
Maybe the righ
t thing to do would be to turn himself in, to allow Lucian to tear him limb from limb, but Kieran never had managed to learn how to do the right thing. He was too selfish, driven by desire and ruled by his emotions.
His thoughts were spiraling, each new one making less sense than the last. The only thing Kieran knew was that he needed to get out.
Now.
There was no time to gather his handful of belongings. If he had any hope of surviving this—not that he was sure he even wanted to—he had to leave.
So Kieran did what he did best.
He fled.
Chapter 12
The Councilman stood with his arms crossed, his expression, while not openly hostile, was hardly friendly. There was entirely too much suspicion in his narrow-eyed gaze.
They’d spent the last twenty minutes going back and forth. Lucian was about to slam the man’s face into a wall and simply take what he needed. He probably would have already, if he didn’t need someone to explain the intricate symbols scrawled in the slender book sitting on the table in front of them.
“Let me just get this clear. You want to blindly test one of our spells on your charge, in the hopes that it fixes whatever has taken over her.”
Lucian clenched his jaw. “I already told you. It would not be a blind test—”
“Oh, so you’ve done this before, then. You know exactly what the outcome should be?”
“I seek to remove what does not belong. Your head guard has already indicated that you have at least one powerful purification spell. That, combined with a Guardian’s innate abilities, should be more than enough to revert whatever the Shadow’s bite has accomplished.”
Vance canted his head, his eyes unreadable. “Based on what you’ve told us of the Shadow-touched and the corruption working its way across the realm, I don’t see how—”
“You don’t have to. Just give me what I need and let me be on my way. I am wasting time she does not have.”
“Have you even considered what will happen if you’re wrong?”
“It is a rare enough occurrence that I am willing to risk it.”