Chapter 35 #2
"Tell me," Malus said conversationally as they picked their way through the unstable ground, "can you feel it calling to you? The piece my brother hid inside you?"
Briar didn't answer, but she didn't need to. The warmth was pulling harder now, almost painful in its insistence.
"It knows we're close," Malus continued. "It can sense the seal, the magic it was carved from. Part of the same whole, separated by time and my brother's fear."
A sound drifted through the corrupted air—laughter that wasn't quite human, wasn't quite anything.
The pixies were back, but changed. She caught glimpses of them in the wrongness—faces that had too many eyes, wings that bent in impossible directions, mouths that opened wider than physics should allow.
"My pets have adapted well," Malus noted with satisfaction. "The corruption doesn't destroy everything. Some things it... improves."
"You're insane," Arion said flatly.
"Am I? I'm not the one who split himself in two rather than face his own nature." Malus's grip on Briar tightened as the ground beneath them shifted from solid to something softer. "I'm not the one who created a weakness that could be exploited."
They were deep in the corruption now. Reality itself seemed negotiable here. A tree to their left grew leaves, shed them, rotted, and regrew in the span of heartbeats. Water flowed upward in a stream of what appeared to be blood if blood could be that color.
And through it all, that rhythmic pulsing grew stronger. The seal's heartbeat, calling to the warmth in her chest with increasing urgency.
"Almost there," Malus said with anticipation. "Can you see it?"
Through the unnatural twilight, Briar could make out a clearing ahead. The trees, or what had been trees, formed a rough circle around an open space. Light emanated from within, but it was wrong somehow, shifting between colors that made her eyes water.
"The seal," Karse said, his voice laced with bitterness.
"The beginning of the end," Malus corrected with satisfaction. "Or perhaps the end of the beginning. Either way, everything changes now."
Briar stumbled as he pulled her forward, and with each step, the warmth in her chest burned hotter, fighting against his hold, reaching for something she couldn't see yet but could feel—ancient magic, old power, and beneath it all, the promise of destruction.
As they entered the clearing, Briar's knees nearly buckled at the sight before them.
The seal was nothing like she'd imagined.
A massive circle of stone was set into the earth, carved with intricate patterns that seemed to move when she wasn't looking directly at them.
Concentric rings within rings, each one inscribed with symbols that shifted constantly, as if her human mind couldn't quite process what they represented.
Around the perimeter stood ancient monoliths that should have been proud sentinels but now leaned at wrong angles, their surfaces cracked and weeping something dark.
The glyphs that should have glowed with protective magic flickered weakly, like dying fireflies.
Some had gone completely dark, their symbols eroded beyond recognition.
The air above the seal shimmered with sickly green light, and through it, Briar could see things. Shadows that moved independently of any source. Shapes that pressed against the barrier from below, testing, probing, searching for weakness.
"Magnificent," Malus breathed, genuine awe in his voice. "You can feel them, can't you? The Unseelie. Pressing against their prison, patient as stone, inevitable as time."
The corrupted guards spread out around the clearing's edge, taking positions. The twisted pixies chittered excitedly from the malformed trees, their too-many eyes reflecting the seal's poisoned light.
Malus finally released Briar, shoving her forward so she stumbled toward the seal's edge. The moment she got close, the warmth in her chest erupted in agony, pulling toward the ancient magic with such force she gasped.
"Yes," Malus said with satisfaction. "It recognizes the power my father used to make his little prison." He circled around her, studying her reaction.
"Don't," Eliam's voice cut through the clearing like a blade. "You don't know what you're playing with."
"Such skepticism, brother," Malus pulled a leather journal from his coat, its pages yellowed with age.
"Our father's notes. His observations about the seal's construction.
The power required to build it." He flipped through pages covered in cramped writing.
"The power that could be reclaimed if one knew how. "
"How? Those were destroyed," Eliam said, but his tone was laced with uncertainty.
"You thought they were destroyed. But I've always been better at keeping secrets than you, little brother." Malus set the journal on one of the tilted standing stones. "Now then, shall we begin?"
From another pocket, he produced items that made Briar's blood run cold. Bones that looked too human to be animal, a mixture of herbs that Briar recalled seeing in the gardens at Eliam’s palace, and the blade he used the night he’d tried to drink her blood before the entire Forest Court.
"The traditional approach would be to simply break the seal," Malus explained as he began arranging the items in specific patterns.
"But that would release everything at once.
Chaotic and so very wasteful." He glanced at Briar.
"No, what I need is a controlled breach. A careful extraction of power."
"Through her," Arion said, understanding dawning in his voice.
"Through her," Malus confirmed. "She's the perfect conduit, the magic will recognize her, flow through her, and with the right persuasion..." He smiled. "It will flow into me."
"That could kill her," Thaine protested.
"Possibly." Malus didn't sound particularly concerned. "But she’s not just a human anymore, is she? She’s become something greater, she’s contained fae magic for her entire life."
He began drawing symbols on the ground around the seal's edge, using something that reminded Briar of chalk if chalk could leave marks that glowed with their own sickly light.
The corrupted guards moved in response to some unspoken command, forcing the others to stand in specific positions around the circle.
"You here," Malus directed, pointing Eliam to a spot directly across from where Briar stood. "And you," to Arion, "there. Equal distance from both. A triangle of power—how poetic."
"We won't help you," Eliam said, refusing to move to his appointed area.
"Won't you?" Malus walked over to where Sian still supported Halian, whose face was still gray and cracked from the decay magic. Without warning, he pressed his palm against Halian's chest.
Halian screamed as autumn magic poured into him, aging him from within. His hair went white in seconds, skin pulling tight over bones that began to brittle.
"Stop!" Sian cried, trying to pull Halian away, but the corrupted guards held her back.
"I'll stop when they stand where I tell them," Malus said mildly, though his eyes never left Eliam. "Your choice, brother. Your pride, or their lives."
Eliam finally moved to the indicated position, his jaw clenched so tight Briar could hear his teeth grinding. Arion followed, light magic flickering weakly around him in futile protest.
Malus released Halian, who collapsed into Sian's arms, aged by decades but still breathing. Barely.
"Much better." Malus returned to his ritual preparations. "Now, according to father's notes, the seal responds to specific resonances. Blood of the makers, will of the breakers, and..." He looked at Briar. "A vessel capable of containing what's released."
He approached her with the ritual blade, and she tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. The seal's edge was at her heels, and she could feel the wrongness beneath it, the things that waited below.
"Your blood first," he said, catching her wrist with inhuman speed. "Just a little. Enough to wake the seal's recognition."
She struggled to pull free, but Malus held fast without any sign of struggle.
The blade bit into her palm, leaving a shallow gash of crimson.
The pain was strange, lacking the sharp sting one would expect.
Instead it felt hollow, as if it were draining something more than blood.
Drops of crimson fell onto the seal's surface.
The reaction was immediate.
The symbols flared to life, not with healthy light but with that same sickly green glow. The ground trembled, and that rhythmic pulsing became audible—a heartbeat made of stone and ancient magic and contained horror.
Through the shimmering barrier, the shadows beneath pressed harder, sensing opportunity.
"Perfect," Malus breathed. "Now we can truly begin."
Malus began pulling more components from his coat—crystals that pulsed with their own sick light, empty vials, and a length of rope that seemed to be made of braided shadow.
"Now for the anchors," he said, moving to where Eliam stood rigid with suppressed rage. "Blood of the makers, brother. Our family line created this seal, your blood will help me unravel it."
He didn't wait for compliance. The blade flashed out, catching Eliam across the palm before he could react. Blood welled, darker than human crimson, almost black in the poisoned light. Malus caught it in one of the vials, the liquid inside immediately beginning to smoke.
"And the other half," Malus moved to Arion with the same swift efficiency, cutting his palm as well. Arion's blood was different—lighter, with an almost golden sheen. When it entered the second vial, the reaction was violent, the contents trying to escape the container.
"Interesting," Malus murmured. "Even your blood knows you're meant to be one. How it must pain you both, being so close to your other half yet unable to reunite."
He returned to the seal's edge, pouring the contents of both vials onto specific points in the carved symbols. Where the blood touched stone, the glyphs flared brighter, that sickly green deepening to something almost black.
The warmth in Briar's chest was burning now, pulling so hard toward the seal that she had to lock her knees to keep from falling forward.
"They know you're here," Malus said softly, standing behind her now. His hands settled on her shoulders, holding her in place when she tried to step back. "The Unseelie. They can sense what you carry. The power that could free them."
He wrapped the braided length of shadow around her wrist and Briar realized with mounting horror that it was hair.
Through the shimmering barrier, those shadows pressed harder. She could almost make out shapes now—faces that weren't quite faces, hands with too many fingers, wings that bent in impossible ways.
"Begin the chant," Malus commanded, moving to position himself in the very center of the seal.
The corrupted guards started speaking in unison, their voices blending into something that scraped against reality itself.
The twisted pixies joined from the trees, their chittering forming an unsettling harmony.
Malus stood at the seal's heart, arms raised, the ritual blade still gleaming with their mixed blood. The symbols beneath his feet pulsed in response to his presence, recognizing the Forest King's bloodline.
"Brothers of light and shadow," he intoned, his voice carrying over the chanting. "Split from wholeness, yearning for unity. Through the vessel that carries your essence, through the one who bore your fragment since birth, let power return to power."
The magic hit Briar like a physical blow.
She gasped as invisible forces seized the warmth in her chest, trying to pull it in two directions at once—toward Eliam, toward Arion, tearing at her from within.
But instead of flowing outward, the magic reversed.
She could feel it—Arion's light and Eliam's shadows being drawn into her, not from her.
"No," she gasped, dropping to her knees.
Power flooded through her, too much, too fast. Arion's light burned through her veins while Eliam's shadows froze them. The two magics met in her chest where the warmth resided, crashing together in violent opposition. She screamed, her back arching as golden and silver light erupted from her skin.
"What—" Malus's chant faltered. "This isn't—the flow is wrong. It should be coming through you to me, not—"
He strode toward her, his hand reaching for her chest where the magic concentrated. The moment his fingers made contact, he jerked back with a snarl. His palm was blistered, burned by the conflicting energies.
"Something's blocking it," he said, eyes narrowing. Then he saw it—the star metal pendant at her throat, glowing white-hot in response to the magical assault. "Of course. Arion's little gift."
He reached for it, but the moment his fingers touched the chain, the metal flared. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as he wrenched his hand back, his palm now a ruin of blackened skin.
"Star metal," he hissed. "Clever. But not clever enough."
He raised the ritual blade, intending to cut the chain, but that moment of distraction was all Arion needed.
Light erupted across the seal. Not the sickly glow of corruption, but pure, brilliant white light. Arion had broken from his position, crossing the distance in a burst of desperate speed. He slammed into Malus, sending them both sprawling across the carved stones.
"You won't touch her!" Arion snarled, light gathering in his palms.
They grappled on the seal's surface, Arion's light colliding with Malus's decay in bursts that left scorched patterns on the ancient stone.
Malus caught Arion's wrist, twisting it backward until tendons strained.
Arion drove his knee up, connecting with Malus's ribs, forcing him back a step.
The chanting guards maintained their rhythm, voices rising and falling without pause.
Briar watched through vision that kept doubling and blurring.
The magic continued to flow into her chest, hot and relentless.
Her ribs felt too tight, as if her bones might crack from the pressure building inside them.
Her heartbeat stuttered, racing too fast and then skipping beats entirely.
Something vital was tearing, coming apart at the seams.
Arion landed a strike that sent Malus stumbling backward. Light gathered in his palms, building to devastating levels. He advanced, pressing his advantage.
Malus feinted left. Arion followed the movement, his guard shifting to block.
The ritual blade appeared in Malus's other hand. He'd been holding it low, hidden against his leg, waiting for the opening.
He drove it upward with brutal force.
The blade pierced through Arion's ribs, sinking deep into his chest.