Warlocks of the Sigil (The Sigil Series Book 1)

by Peri Akman

  “They’ve been feeding on her,” Tsalir hissed, and took out their flask. They knelt down and tried to get Serethen to drink.

  Kole continued to not move.

  Was she panicking again? Quinn wasn’t exactly moving much either, but for some reason Kole just refused to stop staring at the ground.

  Asim pushed a gust of air into Serethen’s mouth between feeble sips of water.

  “Serethen! Can you hear me! What happened?” Asim spoke loudly.

  “Let’s get her out and talk later!” Tsalir snapped.

  “Criminal… ambushed…” Serethen rasped out, her hand extending outwards, trembling.

  Quinn looked back at the motionless demons. They had been feeding on Serethen this entire time.

  “How long have you been here?” Quinn asked, staring at the demons.

  Serethen’s eyes fluttered rapidly. She slowly dragged down her sleeve, revealing bloody marks going down her arm.

  “Count,” Serethen whispered.

  “Five… ten… twenty… Serethen, are these days?” Asim asked, breathing rapidly.

  “Days… here…” Serethen replied, coughing terribly.

  Tsalir tried to feed her more water, but Serethen weakly swatted them away. She continued to breathe, her chest visibly rising with every pained gasp.

  “Kole, destroy the orb!” Asim ordered.

  Kole continued to stare at the ground.

  “KOLE!” Asim yelled.

  Quinn took his sword and slammed it into the orb. He expected it to clang against it, much like Ser Hero’s attempt previously, but instead it got stuck in the middle, cleaving a chunk out of it.

  “Wait, weapons work against these things? Y’all are going on about magic and I can just hit it with a knife?” Tsalir spat out, annoyed. They stood up, wincing at their back pain.

  Asim struggled to lift Serethen up. He clearly had the form for it, but he seemed to be terrified of breaking her.

  “It’s gonna be okay, we’re gonna get you out of here, all right? You’re just gonna get a bit wet,” Asim rapidly assured her.

  Quinn banished the sword and tried again. Unfortunately for him, the second the sword disappeared, the orb started to heal over, meaning that when he hit it with the second strike, he barely made any progress.

  “Not on the records… she’s not on the records,” Serethen audibly whispered.

  “Later, for now we have to get you out of here,” Asim stated.

  “She’s a liar,” Serethen croaked.

  Asim turned to the white crack in the wall, but Kole had not moved since entering. She was still blocking the area.

  “Kole, for the love of all the gods, move!” Asim yelled.

  “I’m sorry…” Kole choked out. “I’m so sorry.”

  Quinn stopped his futile slashing. He turned to look at Kole. Her bandages were slightly askew now, which surprised him. That spot had apparently travelled on her, since her forehead had now taken on the same black texture.

  “HOLY MOTHER OF—” Tsalir screamed before uncharacteristically stopping.

  Quinn whipped around, and when he took in the scene, his blood turned to ice.

  Tsalir was standing up, clutching their throat, clawing at some mysterious darkness surrounding them.

  Standing in front of them, easily ten feet tall, was a being shrouded in darkness.

  He wasn’t sure if his mind could begin to fathom it. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen. At the same time, every ounce of his instincts screamed the answer he didn’t want to comprehend:

  The Dark Queen.

  Gods above, it was the literal embodiment of darkness demons and evil and every other horrible word Quinn could think of, oh gods, oh gods, oh gods!

  The darkness swirled around Tsalir, who was screaming and thrashing.

  Quinn stole a quick glance back to Asim and Kole—neither were moving.

  Asim silently mouthed words of shock as he struggled to hold up Serethen.

  He stepped forward, summoning all his energy to bring forth Ser Hero. Quinn could feel them at the forefront at their mind and—

  Snap.

  Suddenly he stopped. His abilities became quieted, his vision blurring. He tried to reach out like he normally did when demons tried to suppress his ability, but he couldn’t.

  His face burned.

  Quinn watched, paralyzed, as the darkness snapped Tsalir’s limbs. The screaming was deafening. He couldn’t move why couldn’t he move?

  A gust of air shot through the darkness and hit the Dark Queen.

  Movement behind him—Quinn couldn’t tell if it was Asim or Kole. Then a flash of purple dashed by him.

  Air clashed around her, blowing away the shadows. Despite the suffocating darkness, Asim managed to be visible amongst it, a flurry of wind and danger. Quinn would have been pretty impressed if every part of him wasn’t trying to fight the urge to scream.

  “Get out of here!” Asim yelled to Quinn and Kole. He was sacrificing himself. Oh gods, he was sacrificing himself! Quinn tried to turn and run, but he couldn’t move. He just watched Asim futilely try to kill the embodiment of darkness herself.

  The Dark Queen stared at him momentarily before extending her arm. It shot forward, piercing through Asim’s ribcage, and going straight through his back.

  Quinn watched helplessly as Asim coughed and dropped to the ground, blood pooling around him.

  Why couldn’t he move? It had never been this bad! It was a process to even blink! Asim was going to die for nothing!

  The Dark Queen stepped forward and the darkness consumed Tsalir. Their screams punctured the air.

  He couldn’t even look away! Gods, why couldn’t he look away! Hot tears streamed down his face; his heart pounded desperately, trying to escape his chest. Asim was dead. Tsalir was dying. They were dead and he and Kole were next.

  They were all gonna die.

  He didn’t want to die. Not like this. Why couldn't he summon Ser Hero?

  The Dark Queen casually went to the orb. She didn’t walk, or float—the universe seemed to bend around her to let her approach the glowing circle. She reached out and took it, like it was a toy ball. She carelessly threw the orb up in the air. It glowed, if darkness was capable of glowing.

  The orb shifted and moved, turning into a throne. The Dark Queen stretched and lounged as she sat on it.

  The darkness from the ground lifted, making Tsalir visible. They were twitching and silently sobbing, their limbs bent in every wrong direction.

  Well, this is pleasant, isn’t it? The Dark Queen spoke like the demons, but with far more nuance. It had undertones and overtones and just hearing it made Quinn want to puke.

  Behind Quinn, he could hear a coughing, retching noise from the ground. Most likely Serethen.

  You may grovel now, the Dark Queen said, her face stretching as if it was yawning.

  Quinn felt his heart stop. This couldn’t be real. This could not be real.

  And then Kole walked past him.

  And got down on one knee.

  Asim coughed violently. He tried to say something, but it just came out as a garbled mess.

  Kole stared momentarily at Asim, and just like that Quinn could move again.

  “Kole, don’t bow!” Quinn blurted out, running towards her.

  Wham.

  Kole whipped around, hitting him with her walking stick. Quinn staggered back.

  “What the void!” Quinn spat.

  Kole’s bandages were drooping freely from her face now. For the first time, Quinn saw Kole’s full face.

  It was gaunt, but Quinn had assumed that from the last time he had caught a glimpse. What he hadn’t assumed was that every part of her lower face was covered in black, cracked, skin. The last time he had seen her face, it had been a pale white, down to her lips, but that was no longer the case. They were just as black and cracked as the rest of her face now.

  “Stop fighting back,” Kole snarled, her voice rough.

  Quinn went to yell
“what?” in confusion, but it never came. Instead, he listened. Instead, he stopped fighting back.

  The feeling was vaguely familiar. Sometimes at the Academy there were minor flare-ups, when the teachers got frustrated.

  His will was being dominated.

  Kole was controlling him.

  His face was burning because of the tattoo.

  No. NononononononoNO.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Stop him, the Dark Queen ordered.

  Kole didn’t even hesitate.

  He couldn’t fight back. He couldn’t even speak against her. Kole’s desires were present in his mind like they had never been before. He knew what Kole wanted, and he couldn’t ignore it. It permeated every part of his mind.

  He fell to the ground as the crushing word stop weighed impossibly on his mind.

  Everything shut down. He felt like if Kole had ordered his heart to stop, it would listen. He had no power. He never had any power. At any point in time, if Kole had wanted, she could have made him do anything.

  He couldn’t even conceptualize disobeying. His mind couldn’t begin the train of thought.

  Helpless. Pathetically helpless.

  He had to reach out. He had to find a way to summon S—

  Quinn found himself slammed against the wall before he could finish the thought. Everything turned upside down. Shadows and darkness held him there.

  They weren’t coming from the Dark Queen, however. She was lounging on her crafted throne, watching with sheer amusement.

  The shadows came from Kole. She was controlling them.

  Blood dripped to the floor from his forehead.

  Kole turned back to the Dark Queen, and got back on one knee.

  There were many ways to die.

  But Quinn had never pictured it quite like this.

  The Dark Queen stood up, stepping over the two bodies she had personally contributed to killing.

  Tsalir.

  Asim.

  He wanted to cry, more than anything he wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. Kole wouldn’t allow it.

  In his peripherals, Serethen lay on the ground. She seemed to be struggling to get up, but she had been starved for far too long to act fast.

  So many powerful people, and they all lay on the ground, slowly dying.

  Except for his master.

  “Forgive me, master, for taking so long,” Kole muttered quietly.

  This couldn’t be happening. Not Kole. Anyone but Kole. She couldn’t be evil. She couldn’t be bad. Not like this. No no no!

  Tears started gushing out.

  Rise, my faithful slave, the Dark Queen ordered, standing over her.

  Kole stood up, clutching her walking stick.

  The Dark Queen touched the bandage across Kole’s face. It turned black and completely disintegrated.

  The bandages across her arms, her legs, everywhere, disintegrated.

  Go prepare the vassal, the Dark Queen ordered before going to sit on her throne.

  Kole turned to face Quinn again. All of the skin on her was pitch black. Had she been like this the entire time? It couldn’t have been, he had seen her without it! Unless… unless it was like Tsalir’s infection, spreading just like theirs had? Had that been the skin disease?

  So this wasn’t recent.

  It wasn’t new.

  All this time.

  This had been the plan.

  Ooooh, you’re a smart laddie!

  That one wasn’t the Dark Queen. That was just the voice in his head. Lovely.

  Asim continued to cough violently. How that man was still alive despite being skewered, Quinn had no idea.

  Kole walked up to Quinn and grabbed his face.

  Infection spread to his face, and despite every order and fiber in his bone telling him not to scream, he screamed anyway. He kept screaming and screaming, hoping to gods the pain would stop, but it didn’t. It just got worse and worse.

  He wanted it to stop. He wanted to plead, to beg, to grovel, but he couldn’t. Because he was told he couldn’t. So he didn’t.

  His eyes rolled upwards, and he saw Serethen inching towards the white crack in the wall. She was trying to escape. Logically, Quinn knew he couldn’t blame her for this, but emotionally, he didn’t care. Why wasn’t Serethen trying to help him? Couldn’t she see how much he was suffering? How much he wanted it all to stop?

  And she was just going to leave him like this, to die?

  She was going to leave everyone to die.

  At that moment, for that split second, Quinn hated her more than anyone else.

  And then that second faded, and he was back to mindless screaming.

  Kole did not relent, and Quinn did not know how long it was until she finally stopped, but it had been too long. He limply hung from the wall, too dazed to process anything.

  He looked at his own hands hanging beneath him. There was something odd about them. Something he couldn’t quite place at first.

  Was there—white hair growing on him?

  “He’s all yours, Light King,” Kole snapped.

  And everything went white.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Quinn was pacing nervously. So many things could go wrong, but so many more things could go right, and that was what mattered. It beat down on his head, like a pendulum, back and forth, the nerves and jitters frying over his senses with every step.

  It had been smart to rent out a building in Larenx. Point to Shinsen for that. She was very clever, when she wasn’t a loud-mouthed womanizer.

  Quinn paused momentarily to prepare himself. He visited the bathroom, for about the fifth time. He looked in the mirror and frowned. Gods, he was a mess! His eyes were bleary, his skin was splotchy, and his nose was still hurting from when he accidentally slammed it into the door by accident. Quinn pressed against the prominent bone of his nose experimentally. Didn’t seem too banged up, which was a relief.

  He undid the bow and retied his frizzy red hair into something that was hopefully more presentable.

  Aaaand it just turned out worse.

  Gods, he was so hopeless at this!

  Whatever. They didn’t care about how his hair looked. They cared that he was at the beginning of an important social movement. If more warlocks followed suit, especially if it was peaceful, the government would have to listen.

  Some small part of him knew it wouldn’t, but it didn’t hurt to hope, to dream. He just had to keep repeating that into eternity and maybe at one point he’d actually believe it!

  A knock on the door.

  “Kole? Kole, are you in there?” a voice came.

  “Yeah, I’m in here,” Quinn replied.

  “Asim’s proselytizing to Zyne again.” Now Quinn could place the voice. It was Isani, Zyne’s partner. Of course Isani would come to him. The problem-solver.

  Quinn groaned. “All right, gimme a minute. I look like crap.”

  “Oh my gods, Kole, no one cares!” Isani snapped.

  Twenty warlocks under his care, ranging from twenty to fifty years old. Why did he think this would be a good idea?

  He redid his hair three more times and grimaced. He knew it didn’t matter, but he could still hear Resiak’s annoying voice.

  “You have to look good if anyone’s going to take you seriously,” Quinn repeated. He had only said that about fifty million times when he was under his care. Gods, it had been nearly two decades and he still wasn’t over it!

  He was pathetic.

  He didn’t deserve to be leading this.

  At least he had Asim. He could deal with all the etiquette and annoyances.

  Quinn lightly touched his left eye, where the Sigil was branded.

  “It will all be worth it, Kole. You can do this. You are awesome,” Quinn stated, trying to force confidence.

  He tried to fix his hair one more time before leaving the bathroom.

  Sure enough, Asim and Zyne were engaged in a very loud debate.

  “I’m just saying that for
what you’re looking for, Zyne, the Star Gods will give you what you want. The star child concept is very interesting; I think you should give it a look,” Asim said smoothly, grinning that smug grin of his.

  Zyne rolled their eyes. “Yeaaah. I’m totally gonna convert to the oppressive regime that dictates my life just because a few words in a text might be a bit more applicable to my identity.”

  “Hey. Guys. Guyysss. No,” Quinn scolded. “Argue about religion when we’re not trying to harness the forces of evil to our whims.”

  Asim smirked. “It’s not my fault that I’m right.”

  “It’s not your fault that you’re a pompous prick,” Quinn retorted.

  Zyne giggled. “Where’s Shinsen? She knows the Prismatic Parables better than any of us. She can school your mainstream butt.”

  Asim put up his hands in mock defeat. “Fine, fine, I’ll lay off.” He stalked away.

  “Shinsen is off filing paperwork. You know, for our marvelous alibi?” Quinn informed Zyne.

  “Riiiight. What is it again? Feeding orphaned puppies?” Isani cut in, smirking.

  “Oh gods, don’t ask me,” Quinn deflected, “I suck at legalese. You know that.”

  “Yeah, but you’re great about the rest of the legal stuff,” Isani pointed out.

  “We’re gonna be officially indisposed due to some holdup. Paperwork jams,” Quinn supplied. He had purposely avoided asking Shinsen what she was doing. It was better that way. It meant that he honestly was clueless if the government ever asked.

  A sudden migraine hit him, and Quinn winced. The medicine was wearing off. He was going to have to start taking heavier doses soon. It was frustrating. Oh sure, mimicry was great, they said! Most powerful warlocks are the result of broken powers like this!

  No one ever bothered to go into the fact that it was accompanied by migraines, panic attacks, oversensitivity, lack of sensitivity, and his body literally breaking down every time it mimicked a power that wasn’t suited for his body structure. Why would they? Nooo, they were all just dazzled by his party tricks and assumed there was nothing else to it!