Chapter 3
CHAPTER
I spent the entirety of the next day scouring the texts of the former Dark Wielders, hoping I would find some sort of insight that would allow me to achieve the control Saryn desired.
If I could find it before he went after Varro or anyone else, then I could bring an end to his ruthless explorations.
It’s possible he was right, that fear wasn’t the key to unlocking my abilities.
Thinking back on what happened the night of the Canary Veil, I had been convinced it was fear of my own death and Varro’s that led to my power being unleashed.
Fear of the pain of a hundred arrows raining down on us.
When Nori and Cairis were recently put in harm’s way, all of my training and instinct kicked in—but not the dark wielding, even though I’d been terrified.
I relied on what they’d taught us first. The two times I had displayed dark magic, it felt nothing like instinct.
As I continued to devour notebook after notebook, I happened upon a text containing information that had me fearing my power more than ever—something I hadn’t thought possible.
The scribbling at the top was messy, appearing as if it had been squeezed in above all the contents below it.
It read as a warning for everything that followed.
Beware of the Drift. Some magic is too dark; it will dim the light inside of you, obscure your memories and path. Wield just enough, and it will only consume your energy. Wield too much, and it will consume you instead…
I paused my reading, feeling slightly lightheaded.
I realized I had been holding my breath as I looked over the note.
My sweaty, shaking hand caused the ink below my thumb to smear.
I took a deep breath, then another, trying to calm myself and satisfy my nervous curiosity.
There were multiple journal entries tracking this Dark Wielder’s findings.
I find myself struggling to remember things clearly.
Not the recent past, but moreso the family I left behind.
At first, I thought the exhaustion of my wielding would pass and clarity would return, but it has not.
Memories of their faces and my home, the lands which I once rode through daily, become blurrier with each passing day.
No matter how much I focus and clear my mind, I cannot see them, and I fear I may lose it all completely.
One of the others found me today, staring at a wall.
Unmoving, unflinching, lost in a maze of my own thoughts.
They claimed they called my name loudly, multiple times, and yet I did not stir.
Not until they shook me and physically moved me from my stance.
I do not remember how I got into that position, nor how long I had maintained it.
I can only trust what they said. They encouraged me to eat, drink, and rest, but I do not find that it helps this new affliction.
Each day I train these dark gifts, I feel less like myself. I worry I am becoming something else.
As my training continues, my gifts grow stronger—but I am losing control elsewhere.
I have scoured the historical texts of past Dark Wielders, and according to their words, I’m inclined to believe that I am doomed.
I must either give up this practice (which the Imperi will never allow) or suffer the culmination of this fate.
To those of you reading this, someday long after I am dead: The “Drift,” as I have decided to call it, is the price we pay for wielding such an unholy and tainted power.
Where we are given such a force, something must be taken in return.
The continued use of dark magic will undoubtedly result in your demise.
It seeps into your mind, twining through every vein of your body like a rot, spreading till it’s withered you fully.
If you are not killed before you succumb entirely to the Drift, then you best end it yourself.
As a member of the Imperi, you may be houseless, nameless and forgotten, but there is something worse.
I’ve surmised there are two possible ways to avoid the Drift: give up dark wielding or anchor to a mate.
Like many of us conscripted to a life in the Imperi, it is unlikely you will ever find your mate—if you’re even destined for one at all.
It is theorized that a bonded mate can serve as a tether to reality, and in some ways, lessen the burden, ease the corrosion of the mind.
I have lived many years. I have served the realm.
I have never felt the bond calling, and I don’t know how much longer I can withstand the Drift.
I can only hope that the Offering comes to an end, or that no other bloodlines containing dark magic are awoken to suffer as I and a few others before me have.
My chest tightened, constricting my airway.
Fear flooded my entire body as I absorbed the journal’s warnings.
Now, more than ever, I wanted to render this magic useless, unobtainable.
But more than that, it was crystal clear that if Saryn discovered Varro was my mate, paired with the information about the Drift, he’d have every justification to exploit this and hold me to my oath.
My loyalty is bound to you and our cause.
There was safety in knowing I had a mate that could possibly protect me from this so-called Drift, but there was also surrender.
Surely, this would require we seal the bond, and as of now, the weight of that wasn’t one I could bear.
I’d barely toyed with the idea of having a mate at all before Varro, let alone bonding for the sake of additional power like mind-melding.
Now, the decision included protection against a corrosive disease of the mind that may already be coming for me, despite having never dark-wielded of my own volition.
Which path do I take? Learn to control the magic and avoid using it unnecessarily, hoping that would be enough to avoid the effects of the Drift?
Or accept that I am out of my depth, and seek all the help I can get.
Should I tell Saryn everything, in hopes that he and Theory would find a way to help me navigate this safely?
They had to believe a mindless Imperi was a risk and of no use to the realm, right?
What if I told Varro first? Did I even want Varro to know that my ties to him may be more necessary than ever?
I still didn’t know if he even wanted to seal the bond, or what his motivations were.
Added to that, I didn’t want to scare him with the knowledge that I might quite literally lose my mind without him.
I paused briefly, closing my eyes, trying to bring visions and memories of my family back into my mind’s eye.
I felt tears prickling at the edges of my lashes at the thought of not being able to remember them if the Drift ever got me.
The journal entries implied that older memories would be taken first, but who’s to say that one person’s experience suffering from the Drift would be exactly the same as another’s?
Scattered across pages, the histories chronicled other unique experiences encountering its effects.
I’d read enough for the day, I decided, enough to concern me for an entire lifetime.
I made my way back to the common area to see how the others fared in a day of training without me.
I had intentionally grabbed breakfast early to avoid seeing them, unsure if I could look Cairis in the eye after what they did to him.
Because of me. Varro was no doubt the one who had left a plate of lunch outside my door later that day.
As I approached them, I heard the sound of Nori’s giggles in between Cairis’ deep chuckles; an unexpected ruckus, considering the events of the previous evening.
I rounded the corner and almost fell to the ground as Nori suddenly appeared out of a tiny cloudlike swirl in front of me.
Cairis came running towards her, and she quickly disappeared again, re-appearing on the other end of the room.
Varro sat on the couch, shaking his head at them with a warm smile.
“As you can see, you’ve missed out on some very intense training,” Varro teased. I plopped down beside him on the couch to watch their games continue, relieved that somehow warmth and color had returned to Cairis’ tan cheeks.
“I can’t believe they gave you guys the stones!” This was obviously a distraction from what they’d done last night. I felt a bit jealous, wondering where my stone was. As if on cue, Varro held out a stone that looked tiny in the palm of his large hand.
“You didn’t think I was going to let them withhold yours, did you?” He winked.
I had no idea if they had actually considered keeping mine from me, but it wouldn’t be surprising if they had.
They’d spent so much time familiarizing Gia and Trace with the portaling capability before their departure that the rest of us had barely had glances at our own stones.
Reaching for the moonstone, I let my fingers gently graze his hot skin and felt a tickle run across the bond.
Varro’s throat bobbed with a nervous swallow at the contact.
“Will you practice with me after dinner?” I asked politely.
He grinned at the invitation. “Of course! Meet me here.”
And with that he stood, a small cloud appeared, and Varro was gone. I quickly headed to the dining hall, hoping that he had left some dinner rolls for the rest of us.
Theory and Saryn were blessedly absent at dinner, which left us all feeling relieved.
Cairis converted the water to wine and even convinced Nori to come off her high horse and drink with us.
Even still, she kept reminding us that wine was ceremonious and not meant to be drank at leisure.
Lecturing us on how easy it would be to lose control of our inhibitions.
I reminded her that soon we’d be with our enemies, and that meant we’d likely never risk being drunk again.